Side Effects
by mimine
Summary: Slash. Severus Snape and Sirius Black are brought together by love and sorrow.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Side Effects

Author: Mimine   
Pairing: SS/SB/RL (mostly SS/SB)

Disclaimers: I don't own them. She does. She's rich. I'm not. I'm not making any profit off them. Suing me would be pointless and a very mean thing to do.

Archive: Sure, just ask me first.

A/N: As some of you might remember, this used to have an NC-17 rating. I was told that it was closer to an R anyway. In case you disagree, I hope that before you reach for the nearest torch you'll stop and think that at least I am trying to write some sort of a plot.

Mim

Chapter 1

It was an awkward arrangement at first. We didn't want to make Remus choose. We both loved him too much for that. Both of us, I had to admit after I'd screamed until I was blue in the face that Snape had no more capacity to love than a pillar of ice. The truth was there. We fought together during the war. We suffered. Eventually we shared the same bed after Remus had had enough of sneaking around. He couldn't choose. It was impossible.

We wouldn't touch each other at first. We were both with Remus, pleasuring him, getting pleasure. At first it bothered me a little, I'll admit it. Those beady black eyes on me as I would prepare Remus then enter him and take him in long strokes. Passion burning in those dark eyes. Until I realised that I needed those eyes. I needed an audience to make love to Remus.

Yes, it bothered me at first. Seeing Severus lying under my friend. Wrapping his long legs around Remus' back. Was that the attraction, I wondered. That unlike me, Severus was so willing to play the passive role? The reserved Slytherin moaning with wild abandon shattered all of my preconceptions. Contradicted all the names I'd called him to Remus, cold, domineering, cruel, unfeeling…

Sometimes I blamed Remus for putting me in this situation. For forgiving our Death Eater friend who had betrayed to the entire school that he was a werewolf. A teacher can be many things in Hogwarts, even a ghost, a gay former Death Eater, but a werewolf? It had been difficult for Remus to be accepted back but his status of war hero had put him in his element again. Teaching.

Remus would just shrug and explain to me that all this is in the past. He has resolved it with Severus. His voice would carry a faint note of accusation urging me to understand Severus, forgive and forget. Or rather ask _his _forgiveness for what happened in the Shrieking Shack all these years ago. Ask _Severus__' _forgiveness. I know Remus forgave me eons ago. And Remus knows that Muggles will be skiing in hell before I ask Severus to forgive me.

So delicate, our Remus. Severus treats him as if he's made of glass. Sees that he takes his potion. Discourages him from working late Doesn't deny him anything. I hadn't expected him to accept our peculiar sleeping arrangement, both on Remus' king-size bed, within easy reach.

At first I'd been unwilling to sleep on the same bed as Snape. Making love had been one thing but the mere thought of him being right next to Remus just as I was, bothered me to no end. The Slytherin must have shared my sentiments. Sleeping felt almost more intimate than making love.

But Remus is hard to resist. And there was no way I was going to let that slimy git have him all to himself.

And that's how it started, I suppose. Unlike Remus who sleeps like a log, Severus is a light sleeper. And when I would wake up with a near scream, shivering and whimpering like a puppy just as a Dementor was about to lock lips with mine, Remus would stir perhaps but that was it.

The other man would hear me though. And I would hear the change in his breathing. I'd prick my ears and tell it apart from Remus' light snore.

It was around four months ago, I think. I was lying on my face as I always sleep, trying to regulate my breathing and kill any sound before it left my throat. The nightmare had been particularly nasty. I'd broken into a cold sweat and shivered violently. I felt fingers in my hair, then lower, on the nape of my neck. I sensed that the man had knelt on the side of the bed, right next to me. I felt his warm breath against my ear as he made reassuring sounds. Not quite words but I was in a place that did not require words.

He took me out of that place. He covered my shivering body like a warm, breathing blanket. I enjoyed the weight of his slight form on top of me. Shielding me. Protecting me. I held on to him and then…

I like to think that it had been solely his doing. But I sent all the right signals. I showed him exactly what I wanted. He was nearly naked, as I was. I gathered my knees to my chest and spread them. My movement surprised even me since I'm generally very unwilling to be passive.

No words were spoken. I did not turn to see his face.

It was an explosion of pleasure-pain, more on the pleasure side. Raw. Real. Unlike anything I had ever experienced. Because with Remus… I'll be honest here. It hurt. I knew he would do his best to get me to relax… accept, but my body's rebellion would not subside. He would have to be so careful that eventually I guess he felt it wasn't worth the trouble. I still insisted and we did it sometimes but I guess he was getting what he needed from Snape.

As I had, that night. Under him. Coming after a few strokes of his skilful fingers. Hearing his moans against my ear.

It became almost a pattern. I tried to conceal the state the nightmare had left me in but he almost always knew. And I accepted his slender body on top of mine. Indulged that passive streak I hadn't really known I had.

Sometimes Remus would wake up and join us. I think he was happy to see us together. There was this time when we sandwiched Severus between us. They're both thin but their combined weight had nearly smothered me. I'd felt as though I had Hagrid on top of me.

There. I resort to humour. It is a difficult story to tell. And as I commit the words to parchment I know I need to be honest. Blunt even. It is to myself that I'm writing this. To straighten out my feelings. To understand who I am and what I want.

I want to return the favour. To offer _him _some solace. I'm not the only one who gets bad dreams. Remus has asked him to wake him up whenever he gets one of those nightmares. Severus had scared him, you see. Before we took to sharing the same bed, all three of us, Severus had sleepwalked one night. He hadn't gone very far but he'd had a knife when Remus found him. My werewolf friend had of course been afraid that his lover would hurt himself. I don't know what Severus had feared. He had refused to discuss the incident.

It happened once. Strangled cries, the mattress bouncing. I'd thought at first that Remus and him were indulging in an after hours lovemaking session. But Remus' steady breathing in my ear told me otherwise.

I went to him. He had curled into a foetal ball, eyes tightly shut, his breathing coming out in raspy gasps.

"Please, help him!" His eyes opened, glassy, burning, looking right at me but not really seeing me.

"It's ok, Severus."

"Harry, they got Harry…"

I approached slowly placing a hesitant hand on his cheek.

"He's fine. You got us there in time."

He did not relax. I did not need this nighttime confession to know that he cares about my godson. He still sneers at him and calls him a brat though he isn't so quick to deduct House points, not with two Gryffindors sharing a bed with him. Harry doesn't let him get to him. On the contrary. He treats him with a complacency that infuriates our Slytherin. Although I will admit that being with Remus who has an unbelievable gift for teaching has positively influenced Snape from what I've gathered from Harry and other students. Not to the point of becoming anyone's favourite teacher but he's not the ogre he was before.

I wonder if the children guess what their Potions master, their DAtDA master and that "oh so yummy, even though he's a bit old" Quidditch coach are up to. Dumbledore has refused to acknowledge what is there. He's asked us, however, to be discreet. Which we are.

I'm stalling. I had gotten to the night Severus' anguished moans had woken me up. I whispered soothing words to him. He calmed down slowly. Sex had worked for me and I thought… He accepted my kiss. My bitter, sleepy kiss. I moved lower but he was unresponsive. Even when I took him in my mouth he remained flaccid.

Sex would have been easier, I think. But Severus Snape is not an easy man.

I pushed a most pliable Remus to my side of the bed.  In his defence, it was the night after the full moon and he was dead tired. Not to mention that I don't believe for a second that the wolfsbane really doesn't have any side effects as the two of them are trying to convince me.

I took Severus in my arms. He was trembling like a leaf. I kissed away the tears standing in the corners of his eyes. He pressed his wet face against my bare chest.

I wonder if Remus knows I feel different. Whether he suspects what Severus has done to me. All he's definitely seen is that we now accept each other sexually. Which makes us very creative in bed. Which is great. I've never been particularly inhibited. And life is short.

And yet, bed is one thing. What do I do the rest of the day? To my dismay I realise that I try to spend as much time as possible with Snape. Hoping that… what?

He pretends not to take any notice of me. I sit in a corner in a nonchalant and innately graceful, if I may say so, stance, in the Muggle clothing that he disapproves of even though I know he too wears jeans occasionally. Chin resting on my hand, my elbow on my knee as he slices and dices and stirs and does exactly what he discourages Remus from doing. He works. For hours and hours. Remus remembers him most of the time and brings him food and drink. I'm not that domestic. _Yet, _my mind sneers at me.

I look at his long-fingered hands. They hypnotise me with their deft movements. He pays absolutely no attention to me. I look at myself to make sure I haven't turned into a dog. A dull pain twists and turns in my insides.

I battle with my pride whenever I pass the half open door to his laboratory. But I almost always slip in and sit and stare at him, pathetic sod that I am.

Jealousy flares in my chest whenever I see them alone with each other. They sit by the fireplace and talk for hours over academic subjects and such, passion burning in their eyes as they get into mind-numbing details like a couple of Ravenclaws. 

Sometimes I'm in the room with them but it makes no difference. Following their conversation becomes an exercise in futility. I even read up on subjects they are likely to touch but by the time they resume a conversation on anything I've managed to familiarise myself with in the meantime, my contribution is rather meagre and soon enough they move on to something new. And I'm left behind wondering whether maybe the Dementors have sucked all the knowledge I've ever possessed out of my brain.

Even now that middle age has set upon me I'm pleasant to look at. I don't gather that only from the hormonally charged teenagers I coach. A trip to Hogsmeade proves that I can still turn heads. And not just because I was a wanted man for so long.

But like an aging diva I realise that my looks are all I really have. When I lose them those two will still have a fireplace and the conversation I can't take part in.

I was trying to explain all that to Severus the other night. Luckily for me, the amount of alcohol in my bloodstream had hampered communications between my brain and my mouth. I doubt that my drunken warbling had made much sense.

I know he smelt her cheap perfume on me. I saw the disapproval in his eyes. And he said something about me hurting Remus. Not _him. _How could I hurt Severus Snape? But Remus needs to be protected, of course. I realise that. And I started to cry, I think. Why do I have to remember anything at all?

He half-carried me to the bathroom and held back my hair as I emptied the contents of my stomach. He turned and softly told Remus to get back to bed, he had an early class tomorrow. He'd get me cleaned up and in bed in no time. Remus argued but ultimately did as the Slytherin had asked.

"I only smell her perfume," muttered Severus. "Who knows what he'd pick up."

Even I could smell stale sex on me. We hadn't gotten as far as her apartment. The last time I'd been with a woman had been before Azkaban. The nameless encounter in the alley outside the club told me I hadn't been missing much.

I laughed and Severus hissed at me to be quiet. I heard running water. He struggled with my tight trousers which I graciously helped him remove. He continued undressing me, his fingers burning my skin whenever they brushed against it. Simply brushed against it. He didn't touch me more than he would have to, sighing as if he was dealing with a difficult child.

Thus, he bathed me. Ignoring my arousal. Grunting. And I told myself that maybe my infidelity had hurt him too and it wasn't all about washing the female smell off me to spare his precious Remus.

When did Remus become the side effect in our three-way relationship? My words are harsh and seeing them written down scares me. It's not that I don't love Remus. How could I not love him? What's not to love? Loving him is easy. Loving him doesn't hurt me. It's not like… whatever it is with Snape.

I've given him the power to hurt me. I doubt that I can hurt him back. So I can only pray he will not realise he has that power over me. But cunning Slytherin that he is, I suspect he already knows.


	2. 2

Archive: Sure, just ask me first  
Disclaimers: I don't own them. I'm just borrowing them and I promise to put them back. This is written for fun, not profit and suing me would be pointless. 

Notes: Angst alert. Remus fans might want my head after this... 

Chapter 2

I stare at his still form. He does not occupy much space on the bed, thin and wasted, halfway gone already. I listen attentively as he breathes in and out. In and out. Alive. But for how much longer?

They hadn't told me anything. I knew that he's frail. The illness clawing its way in his blood has not been kind to him. But this? All of a sudden Severus' mother hen attitude had made perfect, painful sense. So did the entire nights Severus would spend in his laboratory stirring and sighing and chucking the contents of his cauldron away and starting over. Sometimes the process would repeat itself more than ten times in one night. And most times I would bring him a glass of water or a cup of coffee like a fucking house elf. Or I'd wake up and he'd be crouched over me with a frown, the frown that seems permanently etched on his face and he'd tell me to go and snore in bed next to Remus instead of his floor. Were his eyes trying to tell me that I'd been barking up the wrong tree? That I should never hope for my feelings to be returned? I loved Remus. I love him. But Severus is my drug.

In retrospect I realise that Severus probably did not want me to witness his despair. It wasn't just that he didn't want Remus to be alone in that big bed.

Couldn't Severus understand that his great sacrifice left me cold? I had no great desire to have Remus all to myself the hours he worked. He had pestered Minerva for a time turner but she had her orders from Dumbledore I presume and wouldn't budge. The Headmaster knew that Severus would emerge from his laboratory old and grey should Minerva make the mistake of giving it to him.

I think Minerva also knew. They kept me in the dark, all of them. Or maybe they really thought I'd figured it out for myself. 

Seeing Severus work all these long hours I'd made a nasty comment about him wanting to receive a Paracelsus. Earlier on when I was vying for Remus' exclusive affections I'd said something similar about him whoring himself to Snape because Snape had promised to cure him.

Nasty memories that bring a sting to my eyes now. Severus tried, there is no doubt. Remus became weaker and weaker and Severus would confer with Madam Pomfrey and come up with tonics and whatnot and sometimes they'd work. Other times Remus would grit his teeth and take the pain and appear as perky as he could. He'd certainly fool me but I'm not so sure about Snape.

I had been nodding off in my usual corner when I heard him curse loudly. He overturned his cauldron and I got up just in time to avoid the boiling purple liquid that was coming my way.

I approached him cautiously. I had never seen him lose his temper like that before. Not when it came to his work, at least. He seemed surprised to see me there. He angrily wiped the tears of rage from his face but they were soon replaced.

"Get out!" he croaked.

"Severus, you're just tired. Just… let it rest for tonight."

He shook his head violently. "There is no time."

I asked for an explanation. And finally I was given one. I was incredulous. Surely that 40 to 50 years life expectancy had to be put down to the fact that so many of them would be hunted down and killed at a young age. That the years since the wolfsbane had been developed had not been enough to observe what age werewolves might reach when they get to die of natural causes.

I voiced my doubts and Severus laughed mirthlessly. There was no doubt about it. Remus had at best a year and a half. They'd already visited the most specialised mediwizard facilities, St. Sebastian when we were playing Durmstrang and St Martin when we were playing Beauxbatons so I'd been away when they'd gotten back ashen-faced from both. St. Sebastian had given Remus 8 months to a year. St. Martin had been a little more generous in its prediction.

He told me all that in a dispassionate tone. _Here __are the facts, I've already accepted them, you should too. I wanted to hit him. I screamed that they had no right. Even if that was what Remus wanted. At some point there were no more words from me, only harsh sobs. I slammed Severus against the wall. Hard. He didn't make a sound but I saw the bruises the following night. I let go of his shoulders and collapsed in front of his feet. He leaned and stroke my hair while I cried like a baby. When I had quieted down a little he asked me whether I wanted a sleeping draught. I declined and he picked me up, dusted me off and sent me to bed so he could get back to his work, the condescending prick._

Up until it got very bad I pretended to Remus that I knew nothing. It was what he wanted. Severus said it was because he loved me too much and had wanted to spare me. Meaning what? That he loved Severus less and therefore shared what was happening to him? The truth remained that Severus could help him whereas I couldn't. Did he want me to be the insouciant lover while Severus faced his fears, his pain, his frustration? I never said all that to Remus. I was angry that I'd been made out to be the inconsiderate jerk through no fault of my own but I didn't want to waste the little time Remus had left in accusations and complaints.

The night after Severus dropped his little blast on me I saw him slip from under Remus' arms, his body still warm from making love. Still hoping and fighting with a Gryffindorish optimism, our Slytherin. I did not follow him, for once. I also did not sleep a wink until he came back a few hours before dawn, tired and beaten. He kissed Remus' forehead then spooned against him, careful not to wake him up. Remus mumbled in his sleep. For a totally insane moment I wanted to be the one with the fatal disease just to have Severus hold me like that.

I caressed the brown hair, more grey than brown now. My jealousy shamed me. I reached lower and found Severus' hand, resting against Remy's chest, rising and falling gently with each breath. I leaned and kissed the marble cold fingers one by one.

"Go back to sleep, Black," he rasped. "You wouldn't want to nod off on your broom mid-flight again. Old bones don't mend that well."

Typical Severus. In a way of course it was concern from my wellbeing that he was expressing.

I fell back heavily against my pillow. I told myself I wouldn't sleep just to spite him. But when Remus' clock started mewling at 7:00 the next morning I realised I'd been too tired to manage it.

Remus had continued teaching until it got very bad. He told me later that he decided to stop when he realised his students were staring at him as though they were expecting him to drop dead at any moment. His cheekbones bit into my chest as I cradled his emaciated body. He broke in tears about what was happening to him for the first time in front of me then.

Two months ago the school threw a sort of retirement party for him. A sad affair, reminiscent of a funeral. Faculty and students were all there while Remus opened his presents and was showered by hundreds of "get-well" cards, some drawn by clumsy first year fingers, others more elaborate.

Severus' presence was commented on. Older students were perpetuating that idiotic rumour about Severus going after the DAtDA position. Others were simply staring with unabashed curiosity. According to the rumour-mill Snape and Lupin hated each other. It was a misconception that they had enjoyed sustaining, performing for the students' benefit whenever they were observed.

About Remus and myself I suspect that most students knew. Those who were old enough to fathom two blokes going at it with each other, that is. Not that it stopped the lusty gazes directed my way from impressionable teens of both sexes. Which I tactfully ignored and continue to ignore, of course. And not only because the omniscient Dumbledore would have me fixed.

Soon enough Severus took off to the safety of his Dungeon. I stared apologetically at Remus silently asking him whether I should go after Snape. He drew me near for a tête à tête that created a respectful vacuum around us.

"It's alright. It's just Severus being Severus. You know he can't stand crowds."

I said something about him not even saying goodbye but as Remus pointed out, it wasn't like he wasn't going to see him that night. To the students and most members of the faculty it had looked as though the nasty Potions Master would not be bothered with his colleague's farewell party any longer. And it seemed that Snape preferred it that way.

"Two to six more months according to St. Sebastian," Remus said sadly.

An icy hand gripped my heart. Remus looked resigned.

He read my mind. "I've accepted it," he said softly. "He won't. I know he spends entire nights in his lab trying to find a cure."

"How do you know?" I asked with trepidation.

He blinked slowly. "Some nights I wake up and he's gone. Most of the time you're gone too."

Almost an accusation. I had nothing to say.

He smiled. "You love him, don't you?"

A simple statement. I tried to deny it but the words would not come out. I felt compelled to apologise but could not think of a way to do it without sounding like a complete prat. I simply stared at my half-drank butterbeer.

"I'm not upset," he murmured. "On the contrary, it's quite a relief."

Oh no, he won't, I thought.

But he did. He asked me to take care of Severus after he'd be gone. As if Severus would let me anywhere near him… He's already shut me out.

When they admitted at St Sebastian's that there wasn't much else they could do for him there, Remus asked to die at home. His rooms at Hogwarts was what he meant, of course. Brittle, wheezing, sleeping between us while we remained awake listening for his next breath. Too tired to join us sometimes he'd ask us to make love and he'd simply watch us. It sounds so crude when I write it down. It wasn't. I would hold that long, wiry body and play it like an instrument. I memorised every inch of Severus' body, every moan, every sigh. Quite often Remus' grey head stealing a kiss would deprive me of the sight of Severus' face flushed and relaxed under me right after I'd brought him to orgasm. Remus would misinterpret my expression and give me a kiss as well. He could not understand that just for a few seconds I did not want to be reminded of the fact that Severus loved him and only him. How heartless I sound. Remus at death's door and all I could think of was my petty jealousy. My insane jealousy. How can you cheat on someone when all three parties involved are sharing the same bed?

Remus is in the medical ward now. In a coma so it doesn't matter that we're not sleeping next to him anymore. Severus no longer tries for a miracle potion. I suppose he too has given up. He comes and sits by Remus' side taking precautions that no one besides me, Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore will see him. The few students who are also allowed to visit have never seen him here. Except for Harry. He walked in once to find Severus resting his forehead against Remus' limp hand. His eyes shone. Had he just realised? Or simply confirmed his suspicions? He slipped out quietly and to my knowledge did not share his discovery with anybody. He didn't even ask me any questions.

Remus, I don't think I'll manage to do what you want me to do. I cannot reach Severus. He sleeps in his Dungeon now. At least, he says he does. It doesn't look like it to me. If you could see the bags under his eyes…

This is not an easy task, Remy. It's not that I don't try. Believe me, I do. The other night I stood outside his door and begged him for at least an hour to let me in. Well, alright, I didn't exactly beg. I tried to reason with him. I pounded on the door, I kicked it, I called him every name in the book. Nothing worked. Dumbledore found me curled on the cold stone - it would have been unthinkable for Snape to have a welcome mat, I know - my head resting against my hind legs. Reduced to that for Snape. Albus scratched me between the ears and patted my head affectionately. He should have taken me to be put to sleep.

Snape let Dumbledore in but not me. I was good enough to fuck in the night but he will not share his pain. The only times I see him now are at your bedside. I almost hate you, Remy. For leaving him. For leaving me. For making me love him. For making me lose him. For being so fucking innocent, the martyr in all of this. I cannot see what I'm writing anymore. It's better that way because I don't mean it. I don't mean any of it.


	3. 3

Disclaimer: Not mine, JKR's. Written for fun, not profit.

Archive: Sure, just ask.

Chapter 3

The sky was grey, overcast with clouds. A light drizzle fell. _One could say that the sky was weeping along with me, thought Sirius._

Only he wasn't weeping. Not anymore. For more than a month Remus had lay dead to the world, his heart obstinately going on, and Sirius had shed his tears then, little by little, drop by drop. And now he was empty. He heard Minerva sniffle and felt her squeeze his shoulder. He turned to her.

"I'll be alright," he whispered hoarsely.

He almost laughed hit with the realisation that he was now the last of the Marauders. What a jolly lot they had been! How swiftly it had all gone to hell! James turned to him, eyes too bright behind his glasses… no, not James. The eyes were green. It was a boy. Just a boy that had been forced to carry the weight of the world.

Albus' eulogy was brief. He had never been one for long speeches. His eyes met Sirius' for a moment then he glanced at Severus. Perfectly composed Severus. Sirius was not surprised. He'd seen Snape brew and drink the calming potion himself.

Severus wore a vaguely bored expression that must have convinced most of the mourners that he truly had no heart. No one was squeezing his shoulder. No one was near him. He never tore his gaze from Remus' still body. Remus, dressed in white, peaceful at last. With his small frame one could take him for a child if it hadn't been for the grey hair.

A flick of Albus' wand and the flames started. The burning boat with its sleeping passenger was launched in the lake. Spectacular in death, quiet, sweet Remus.

"Goodbye Moony," whispered Sirius. "See you on the other side."

Severus was still staring at the fire which was slowly dying out in the middle of the lake. The night had fallen. It came early that time of year. The moon was almost full from what he could see behind the clouds but it no longer scared his Remus. The fire in the water was gone now and only the moon's cruel silver light fell on the lake. One by one the mourners made to get back to Hogwarts.

Sirius did not want to receive condolences like a bereaved widow. He wasn't unnecessarily harsh, he knew that the students and members of staff that told him how sorry they were and asked if he was alright had meant well.

Ron gave him a pat on the shoulder that had started out as a hug but at the last minute he had seemed to remember his homophobia. Sirius smiled kindly to the boy whose eyes were as red as his hair.

By the redhead's side, Hermione wiped at her wet cheeks with the back of her hand.

"He was a brilliant Professor, and a wonderful person," she whispered.

Harry guided his friends away sensing his godfather's need to be left alone.

Before leaving he gave one last look at Sirius then followed his gaze which had landed on the gaunt black-clad figure of a man that was still staring at the lake as if rooted on the spot. The Headmaster's figure illuminated only by the light of his wand was making its way towards him.

In the quiet night their voices carried. Sirius stood still.

"I'm fine, Albus."

"What have you taken?"

"Oh, did I disappoint you by not beating on my chest and tearing my hair out?"

"It's not good for you to be numbing your pain."

The other man gave out a harsh laugh. "The potion won't last for very long. I'm expecting my pain to come back full blast in about an hour or so."

The razor-sharp sarcasm did not faze the Headmaster. He placed his hands on Snape's shoulders.

"He's dead, my son. You aren't."

"I'm a shadow, Albus. I was never alive. So please, no lectures on moving on and learning to live without him. I've gotten enough of those from Remus."

"And you will not respect a dying man's last wishes?"

"Where is your greatest love, Albus?"

The white-haired man took a step back. "She's dead," he said in a tone Sirius had never heard him use before. "She has been dead longer than you have been alive."

"And did you move on?"

"At 110 it didn't seem like a good age for that."

There was silence for a while.

"I'm sorry, Albus," Severus sounded tired. "I know that you only want what's best for me."

"Come, I'll walk you back to your Dungeon," Dumbledore's tone showed that he did not need the apology.

_And Severus always believed that I was his favourite, thought Sirius._

The Tranquillus Potion had left Severus exhausted. Albus put his arm around his shoulders and together they headed back to the Castle.

"I don't want anyone to see me," murmured Severus.

They passed Sirius. Dumbledore gave him a curt nod. Severus did not notice him.

"Don't worry, no one will see us," said Albus taking out his wand. With a murmured word that Sirius didn't catch and a little flash they disappeared. Sirius could still hear their footsteps. The invisibility charm could not do much about sounds.

In his dream, no one was dead. He had Remus tucked under his chin and his hands were busy torturing his upper body. Teasing his nipples then going lower to stroke on his flat stomach enjoying the feel of the fine hairs. And Severus was there taking care of things bellow the waist, his bobbing head brushing against Sirius' fingers. Remus had melted like butter between them. Their Remus.

Abruptly, as it is the case with dreams, the scene changed. They were still in Remus' enormous four poster. Somehow Sirius had ended in the middle… was that a memory? Something he had wished for? Severus was asleep with his head on Sirius' chest. Severus was always the last to fall asleep if he slept at all.

Sirius half-opened his eyes not wanting to accept the reality of his cold, solitary bed. Definitely a memory. He could remember everything down to Severus drooling on him and how surprisingly soft and sleek his hair had felt. He'd mostly avoided touching it until then even though he and Severus had been intimate many times and in many ways already. He'd run his fingers through the silky mass while he felt Remus' warm breath hitting the side of his neck.

Sirius had never felt more complete. That moment had been pure perfection, it would have been enough to feed a Dementor for a year. He gave out a bitter laugh which was cut short when his breath hitched. His eyes stung as though the moisture he felt running down his cheeks was blood, not tears. He thought he'd run out but apparently he'd been wrong. He wondered whether he was crying for the dead or the living.


	4. 4

Disclaimer: Not mine, JKR's. It's probably better that way. No money made.

Archive: Ask and ye shall receive.

Chapter 4

"Is that a suggestion or an order, Headmaster?" The tremor in his voice disgusted Sirius.

Dumbledore sighed. "You have a responsibility to the school team, Sirius. A responsibility that you're currently unable to…"

"Look, if that's about the match…" Sirius cut him off vehemently.

"It is the second time that you forgot about a match, Sirius," Dumbledore said sternly. "All that I'm suggesting is that you take some time off."

"To do what, Albus? Pathetic as it may sound this is all I have. Where can I go? I have no family left except for Harry. Where can I be useful?" He shook his head ruefully. "I don't understand the world, Albus. It passed me by. I can understand war but I never knew peace." Sirius was staring at the back of his hands. Slowly the anger had left his voice leaving just weariness behind. "I've lived too long at the margin of humanity, of sanity of… morality," he added with a twisted smile.

Dumbledore looked up at him sharply. "I'm not telling you to leave for good, Sirius!" he protested.

"Of course not," whispered the Animagus. "You take care of your strays. But they should not become too attached, should they? Though I don't see you sending your other stray back to Snape Manor for some peace and relaxation." His eyes met the Headmaster's. "Don't hide behind your finger, Albus. You knew exactly what was going on. You always know what is happening in every corner of the Castle, why should Remus' bedroom be any exception?"

Anger shone behind the half moon spectacles. "I do not appreciate your tone, Mr Black. It is my duty as Headmaster of this school to see that nothing interferes…" Albus' voice trailed off. His expression softened. "Sirius, you are an asset to this school. I'm only talking about a few weeks."

"A month."

"It's three weeks until the end of term."

"I will not leave-"

_Severus__._

"I will not leave Hogwarts."

"It would be good for you to have a change of setting," Dumbledore said quietly.

"As long as I'm employed, I can stay. Are you letting me go, Albus?"

He didn't sack me. How could he have? He loves his strays, me, Remus, Hagrid, the ones I never knew about and above all, Snape. His lost black lamb, his prodigal son.

Had Snape asked him to get rid of me, even for a little while? It's been almost a week since Remus' funeral and he's been avoiding me like the plague. I miss him. I began missing him since before Remus died. It is not easy to go from both to no one at all.

I corner him when he's heading for his Dungeons but he will not speak to me. He hardly acknowledges me. I feel that he cannot stand the sight of me, that he's blaming me for being alive while Remus is dead. Am I paranoid?

I'm not leaving. That self-destructive prick won't push me away. At the teacher's table he's taken to sitting as far away from me as possible. I avoid looking at him. The first day after the funeral he left the table in anger. Later in the day he caught up with me and hissed at me to stop staring at him like a lovesick puppy.

What had nearly been a smile at seeing him walk up to me was killed by the venom in his voice. A lovesick puppy. Indeed sick to be aching for Severus Snape.

Snape stared at his class of seventh years. It was Double Potions with Gryffindors and Slytherins or rather Slytherin as the joke went. Although his House hadn't truly been reduced to one student the joke came close to the truth. The sixth and seventh year Slytherins put together were hardly enough to form a Quidditch team. 

"Longbottom?"

"Yes, sir?"

"What are we making?"

"The Obscuro Potion, sir."

"And are you sure that salamander eyes belong in it? This classroom is a bit old but I'm not really in the mood for redecorating it."

Neville drew in a steadying breath. He feared Snape a lot less since the war. It wasn't just that he had seen things that were far more likely to reside in one's nightmares than an ill-tempered, middle-aged Potions Master. Said Potions Master had covered Neville's body with his while curses and rubble were landing all around them during the Siege of Hogwarts. He may have called Neville the bane of his existence and a pitiful waste of space but it seemed that he hadn't been that adverse to the thought of him continuing to walk the Earth. And in Neville's loyal half Hufflepuff heart actions spoke louder than words.

"I wasn't going to add the salamander's eyes, sir. I was just about to put the jar back."

"Why had you taken it out in the first place?"

"I… last week… I accidentally packed it along with my things…"

Severus gave out a heavy sigh. "Ten points from Gryffindor and please, proceed with care." _Remus__ would have been proud, he thought with a bitter smile. __Only ten points, no detention and I didn't yell at the boy. Who knew I had it in me?_

He looked up to find himself the object of green, bespectacled scrutiny. He'd noticed Potter staring at him when he was giving instructions on the preparation of the potion but that had been the case with the whole class then, hanging or pretending to be hanging from his every word despite the fact that most of them were going to botch their potion.

Potter was still staring. _Annoying little brat.__ Just like his godfather. Perhaps Sirius had told his godson… Anger rose in Severus' chest at the possibility adding to the irrational anger that he already felt against the Animagus. Cornering him. Wanting to be with him as though nothing had changed. Playing a cruel trick on him back at a time when he could not accept and continue to love a monster._

Was it fair to blame only Sirius for the time he had wasted hating Remus? Running around with a mask on his head? Falling to his knees in front of Voldemort, falling to his knees in front of Lucius Malfoy? For different reasons…

And later on, after the trials, after the dust had settled down, long after Malfoy had gotten married and had a son he'd seen a familiar face in Diagon Alley. Tousled brown hair where some white hairs had already made their appearance, big hazel eyes that tiny wrinkles had marred. The monster he had once loved.

He did not follow Remus that afternoon. He did not try to find him again. He wrapped himself in his pride and slept with it.

"Professor?"

It was Potter. "What?" he snapped.

"Are we dismissed, sir?"

The bell must have rang. He did not hear it. He couldn't afford to fall apart.

"Yes. Don't forget to put away your potions, we're going to test them next week. Do not borrow anything intentionally or accidentally" at that he glared at Neville. "Now get out of my sight."

They all did as they'd been told. Almost all. Severus felt the green eyes on him.

"I suggest you hurry up, Mr Potter," he said without looking up. "I'm running low on diluted Bubotuber Puss and I'm sure you'd prefer spending your afternoon doing whatever you and your insipid little friends consider fun rather than having detention in my office."

One of the insipid friends poked his red head through the door to see what was keeping Harry. Harry left quickly but not before giving the Professor another piercing look.


	5. 5

Disclaimer: The characters and most of the setting in this story belong to JKR. No harm intended, written for fun, not profit.

Archive: No problem, just e-mail and ask first.

Chapter 5  

I'm forced into inaction and that is not good. Plenty of free time means I also have plenty of time to think. I don't want that. It hasn't been a week yet since I've been made to take a vacation and I feel as though I'm going crazy. Long days and even longer nights. The nights are the worst. After two nights staring at the ceiling I decided to let Padfoot run loose in the Forbidden Forrest. I got back to my rooms at the crack of dawn and slept until noon.

Harry knows I hate having nothing to do. He comes and visits me every day. Now that Ron and Hermione are officially a couple he often feels like a third wheel. Visiting me serves the dual purpose of cheering me up and giving them some privacy. He will not tell me anything about his romantic involvements and I'm not one to pry, afraid that he may do the same. I think that he doesn't really have anything to share. We only talk about inoffensive subjects, his day, Quidditch and I rake my memory and occasionally find a story about his parents that he hasn't heard. The seventeen year old saviour of the wizarding world doesn't tire of them, he drinks them up, his eyes burning behind his glasses.

This afternoon I'm in a melancholy mood. I told him that I didn't want to depress him but he didn't leave. Raking my memory has not produced any story about the glorious Marauders or the Lily and James romance. I find myself turning my attention more and more to the few snippets of memory I have of someone else. A pale boy who I'd thought had looked young for his age but had in fact started school two years ahead of everybody else. A boy that I'd disliked at first sight just as Remus had warmed up to him and tried to take him under his wing. But the little boy had been prickly and quick to hex and getting sorted into Slytherin hadn't helped matters any. And _I hadn't helped matters any. Slytherin and pureblood, son of one of the greatest Potion makers in Europe who'd also been a Grindelwald sympathiser but had gotten away with a slap on the wrist. The wizarding world had overlooked the foolishness of Morten Snape's youth lest his Potions making genius be wasted in Azkaban. Like father, like son, like all the other purebloods, like all the other Slytherins it had been in my black and white Gryffindor mind._

Remus had tried to look at the boy and I had stayed at the name. In the end, we'd both hurt little Severus Snape. Remus with his kindness that he couldn't follow through, with his secrets that he couldn't share, with his love for me that hadn't let him belong entirely to the boy even for one second. My sins against Severus Snape had been far less subtle.

Harry studied Sirius' expression. In an odd way it was similar to the expression Snape had been wearing in Potions last Friday When he'd been so lost in his thoughts he hadn't even heard the bell ring or seen the little notes that had been travelling across half the class the go from Parvati Patil to Dean Thomas and vice versa.

The similarities between his godfather and his least favourite teacher struck him again. Tall and dark, though handsome strictly applied only to Sirius, brave and loyal, children of the same generation that had been raised during the horror that Voldemort had been. Yet they'd spent the better part of their lives hating each other.

"Are you thinking about Remus?"

Sirius kept his eyes on the weak setting sun. "Yes," he said softly, admitting half the truth.

Neither spoke for a little while.

"Snape was very distracted the other day in class."

Sirius pretended not to notice the non sequitur and what its hidden meaning might be.

"I think you know the reason he's been distracted," Sirius said neutrally, inwardly wincing at where he was leading the conversation.

Harry did not go there. He couldn't begin to understand what had happened between the three men, or rather, he had an idea but didn't want to think about it much.

Hoping that Ron and Hermione had snogged enough to get it out of their system and would spare him the display he gave his godfather a brief hug before leaving him. He gave one last look to the man who had closed his eyes bathed in the warm golden light of the sunset that was hitting his rooms up on Gryffindor Tower.

I was relieved when Harry left but also vaguely saddened. I would have liked to be able to discuss what is happening. Dumbledore knows more or less but I feel as though he's cast me as the villain in this. Perhaps I'm unfair. Perhaps I expect too much. I do know that I'm lonely.

The old dream came to me again that night. A Dementor, up close, slowly raising his hood. And when he did and leaned for a kiss it wasn't a Dementor at all. It was Severus and he would suck my soul out, or rather, he already had.

They're almost extinct now, these hideous creatures that had automatically joined Voldemort. They're out in the wild, soul-sucking at will. I amuse myself with the thought that I may encounter one in my nocturnal wanderings in the Forbidden Forrest and suffer the fate I'd been spared in Azkaban.

At breakfast I avoided Snape as he'd told me but I could feel his eyes on me. I couldn't eat. There were other eyes on me too. I could practically hear McGonagall thinking: _The poor boy is grieving. She's always had a soft spot for me._

I controlled my urge to leave the table before everyone was finished. I was heading for the Tower, to my hours of forced idleness when Snape caught up with me.

"Black, a word if I may."

The same voice that had whispered my name as he lay on top of me, the same man who used to chase the bad dreams away instead of starring in them. I turned to face him.

"I wasn't looking at you," I murmured.

"What the hell have you told that meddlesome godson of yours?"

I raised my head to meet his eyes, the force of my nightmare making me take a step back.

"Harry? What makes you think I've told Harry anything?"

He grabbed my arm. I jerked away from his touch.

"Don't make a scene!" he hissed.

"Don't touch me!" I hissed back. There was confusion in the dark eyes. And perhaps… had that been hurt? Maybe I was fooling myself but I think he hadn't been expecting that from the lovesick puppy.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest. He looked around as students scattered about all going back to minding their own business.

"Potter has been watching me like a hawk all week. He's been acting as though he's concerned for me," he said with disgust.

"How dare he!"

"It's not funny! What did you tell him?"

"I didn't have to tell him anything. The boy's not blind! He'd seen you with Remus."

He blanched. He looked paler than any vampire I've ever seen.

"What do you mean?" he whispered, "what did Ha… what did Potter see?"

So fiercely private. So terrified of anyone finding out he's human. He was bracing himself, shoulders stooped and, my dream forgotten, I had a hard time resisting the urge to draw him in my arms. Out in public he'd hex me for sure. He wouldn't even need his wand to do it as I know from bitter childhood experience.

The tenderness I couldn't show crept in my voice. "You stayed with Remus more than you normally would one afternoon and Harry came to visit after class. He found us both with Remus. The way you were with him would leave no doubt…"

He cut me off with a curt gesture. "Didn't he ask for an explanation?" Snape addressed the tiled floor, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

"No. All he told me yesterday was that you seem distracted in class," I said neutrally.

Severus sighed. "Tell him to stop looking at me."

"Because you're just fine?" 

"Because it's none of his business, how I am. It's none of your business either." He kept his voice low but he was trembling with anger. We had attracted a fair number of curious gazes again.

"I gave a promise to Remus…"

"Don't! Don't even say his name!"

"Severus, now you are making a scene…"

His eyes were feverish behind the curtain of lank black hair. He drew in a sharp breath.

"I just want to be left alone, Black. I don't want your concern, or Potter's! The war is over. Remus is dead and I'm not forced to tolerate your presence anymore," he spat.

I somehow managed to reign in my anger. I focussed on his eyes that belied the harsh words he had literally spat at me. Unless it was my undying optimism that made me see vulnerability in them.

I shook my head ruefully. "You're a pathetic excuse for a human being, Snape." _And, Merlin help me, I love you so. "Rewrite what happened in your mind if you must but I know just how well you tolerated my presence." I pushed him aside and left in long purposeful strides. I kept my cool until I reached my room. Once inside, I rested my back against the door and slowly sank to the floor. There was not enough air. A knife was ripping me open. How did I let this happen to me?_

Banging my head against the door did not give me an answer nor did it bring me back to my senses. I simply got a headache to match my heartache.


	6. 6

Chapter 6

"There's been an explosion, in the Dungeons… Harry's alright…" No! I shouldn't scare him! "Harry's not hurt but there was an explosion… Harry's fine!"

Hermione's thoughts were a jumble as she climbed the steps to Sirius' rooms. He had to know, these things travelled with lightning speed. It would be better if he heard it firsthand.

"Harry's ok," she murmured, "but there's been an explosion… I mustn't scare him, Sirius would die if something happened to Harry." Another flight of stairs, rather temperamental, that one.

"Oh, stay PUT!" cried out Hermione, gasping for breath. Surprisingly, the staircase obeyed her. She climbed the steps two by two until she reached Sirius' door. She knocked loudly and was about to do so again when the door opened to reveal a groggy, barefooted Sirius wearing the bottom part of a tracksuit.

"What?"

"Harry… there's been an explosion…" Hermione wheezed.

All colour left Sirius' face in record speed. He held onto the doorframe for support.

"Harry's fine! He's in the Infirmary but he's fine!" Hermione cried out.

"Where did it happen?" somehow Sirius knew already.

"At Potions. Parvati's cauldron exploded. We were all too busy checking up on Neville and didn't see that coming. Harry fell on her and then Professor Snape fell on both of them…"

"Get out, let me get dressed."

The girl stepped out and Sirius closed the door. He leaned against it for a moment, shaking uncontrollably. _Severus__! He'll be fine! He has to! The voice in his mind was weak._

He emerged in jeans and a T-shirt and started running down the stairs leaving a panting Hermione behind. People bumping into them in the corridors could clearly see something was wrong. The man was deathly pale and the girl's robes were singed.

They got to the Infirmary via a passage Hermione had never seen before. Even after all these years it seemed that Sirius still knew Hogwarts like the back of his hand. _It is no wonder that he created the Marauder's Map, thought Hermione, feeling her way carefully not to scrape her face on the rough walls. Once more she marvelled at that dichotomy of a man. Devised the Marauder's Map, carried through his idea to become an Animagus then helped the rest of them yet he'd never made much of all that potential. Mediocre marks – Remus had produced one of Sirius' report cards when Sirius had dared exercise godfather duties in regards to Harry's academic performance – no further education… well, there __was a war going on when he graduated… Hermione chased away the random thoughts. Her whole body ached and there was no end of the passage in sight._

She was about to collapse gasping "Mobilicorpus or just shoot me, whatever you prefer," when she felt strong hands dragging her out. She heard a loud curse as the portrait they had gotten out from swung back into place.

"I remember you, Black!" the dead wizard screamed, rubbing at the back of his head. "You'll pay for this! I swear!"

"Stuff it, Jigger!" yelled Sirius without turning.

"Who's that?" gasped Hermione.

"My Potions Master. We had a hate-hate relationship."

Hermione looked around to get her bearings and maybe sneak in a breath. The strong hands grabbed her again and pulled hard.

"This way."

_The Infirmary, thought Hermione. __We're here. I can breathe again._

The door was half-open. Sirius pushed it hard and made a beeline for Madam Pomfrey.

"How is he?"

"I'm…" came a voice from the right.

"How's Severus?"

"…fine" finished Harry.

Sirius turned to his godson. "I… Hermione told me that you…" _fuckfuckfuckfuck___

Harry put his arms around the trembling Animagus, understanding all too well what was going on. "He'll be alright," Harry whispered in Sirius' ear, feeling him relax in his embrace. Harry stroked at Sirius back until he saw that his godfather had regained his composure.

Sirius pulled back and took a good look at Harry. He was in a hospital gown. His left cheek was blue as though covered in war paint.

"It's skin-grow," Harry explained. "Doesn't hurt a bit, only itches a little. I snuck a peek and Snape is covered in it. I mean, in case they let you see him I must warn you, he's like a smurf."

"A what?"

"Nevermind."

Pomfrey approached them. "Back to bed, Harry," she scolded the young man gently.

"In a moment."

"How is he, Poppy?" Sirius turned to the mediwitch, holding on to Harry's hand so hard Harry feared he'd soon need skele-grow as well.

"It isn't as bad as it'd appeared at first. He'll be alright. He's gotten through worse."

"Can I see him?"

"Albus is with him now," the mediwitch said gently. "It's odd, isn't it?" she added in a neutral tone. "You used to be the one who would send him here when you were students. I'd never imagined a scenario in which you would come to visit him."

The little colour that had gotten back on Sirius' face upon hearing that Severus was going to be alright left again. He took a step back as though the stout witch had slapped him. In a way she had, of course.

"It wasn't always my doing," the Animagus said weakly. "And I can remember many times when one of his hexes would send me here."

Pomfrey was about to say something in reply to this when her eyes fell on Harry. "You! Go lie down. I won't say it again."

A Norwegian Ridgeback would probably go to bed faced with the compact fire that the mediwitch was at that moment. Harry gave his godfather a reassuring pat on the shoulder and extricated his hand with some difficulty, feeling the brittle bones get back into place.

Pomfrey took a deep breath. "I'm sorry about this, Sirius," she said softly. "You didn't deserve it. Not now. And not in front of Harry. It's just that… he's been through too much!" her voice broke. She took a deep breath. "He'll be alright. He's gotten burned before. Goes with the territory really."

Sirius nodded abjectly. "Can I see him?"

Pomfrey turned to the sound of the opening door.

"He's asleep." Dumbledore looked every one of his 150 years.

Pomfrey nodded. "It was about time. I'd given him enough Tranquillus to knock down a giant." She went to check on her patient, leaving the two men alone.

"I should have made him take some time off," Dumbledore said sadly.

Sirius found that the last thing he wanted to say was 'I told you so'. "He looks stronger than he is," he said gently. "Did he say anything?"

"He asked whether any of the children had been hurt."

"Have they? Besides Harry, I mean."

"Parvati Patil has a couple of broken ribs from the force with which Harry and Severus fell on her to protect her."

_What were they thinking? I lost Remus, do they think I can afford to lose either one of them as well? –Should they have let her die? – __I don't care! – Oh, that's very mature!_

Pomfrey's hand on his shoulder pulled the Animagus out of his internal argument.

"Go stay with your godson," she said kindly but firmly. "You may see Severus later when there will be no chance of anyone finding you in his room. Severus will have my hide if I let this happen.

Sirius nodded and went to join Harry, Ron and Hermione in Harry's room.

After a while the young couple felt that Harry wanted to be alone with his godfather and left with a weak excuse that Harry acknowledged with a nod and Sirius missed completely.

Sirius sat at the edge of Harry's bed. He took a deep breath. "I suppose you want to ask me about what Madam Pomfrey said."

"You don't have to give me any explanations."

Sirius buried his face in his hands, rubbing tiredly at his forehead. "She made me into some sort of bully. I… he provoked me. All the time. We were no match in physical strength and he couldn't control his magical strength well enough. I didn't know it then but he'd started school two years earlier. Shit. I made him sound like a defenceless little urchin…We hated each other right from the start…" _like you and Malfoy, Sirius had wanted to add but couldn't bear to remind Harry of the blond Slytherin's tragic death. That wound had taken a long time to heal if it had healed at all._

"When I got to know Snape a little better during the war, I realised that there had been more to the Shrieking Shack and to his reasons for hating my Dad and the rest of the Marauders so much," Harry said quietly.

Sirius raised his head from his hands. "Don't ask me for the full story, I don't think I can manage it, not now."

Harry leaned and covered Sirius' hands with his own. "You don't have to tell me anything."

Something broke in Sirius. He took a deep breath fighting for his composure and winning by a thread. "I will tell you one day," he said weakly. _Just not now, I can't have you hate me now._

They steered the conversation towards safe subjects, one of them involving how Ron and Hermione were already acting like an old married couple. At some point, waiting for a reply Sirius saw that Harry was out. He leaned and removed the boy's glasses then ruffled affectionately the black hair. It was dark outside. It surprised him that the boy hadn't fallen asleep earlier.

He stepped out of Harry's room. The Infirmary was empty. He approached hesitantly the door on the other side of the corridor. He took a deep breath then entered the room.

The figure in the bed was breathing regularly. For a moment Sirius was transported back to the nights he had spent with Remus waiting for the inevitable. He shook away the memory. The light was low but Sirius could see that most of  Severus' face was covered in blue goo. He wondered what the appearance of the skin underneath it would be.

_Foolish, brave man.__ You didn't survive Voldemort to have one of your students off you._

The Animagus leaned over the sleeping man, a smile playing on his lips as Severus crinkled his nose giving out a little whimper. Sirius let his lips brush against a patch of pale skin showing at Severus' right cheek, the strong chemical smell of Skin-grow making him wince. He fell on his knees next to the bed, resting his head on Severus' pillow. His hand stroked on the slim chest lightly, encountering a bundle of bandages that, as he realised with a start, was Severus' left arm.

"Stupid git," Sirius whispered. "Pig-headed bastard."

The man on the bed stirred, giving out another whimper.

The dream was very vivid. Someone was with him, a gentle hand tracing abstract patterns on his chest, a warm breath against his cheek, a clean, sharp scent tickling his nose. He wanted to respond to the touch, wrap himself on the warm body he guessed next to him, but his limbs weighted around a ton not to mention that his cruel logic would take dream-Remus away if he tried to touch him. The hand was persistent, stroking gently, almost reverently and the breath came nearer.

Severus' eyelids fluttered. Under his thick lashes he made out a vague form. No dream then, someone _was in bed with him. Gentle caresses, mindful of Snape's injuries, soft hair tickling against bare skin, broken whispers._

Snape's body remembered the touches, the voice, the unusual terms of endearment. Remembered and reacted, much to his dismay. A shiver ran through him. He refused to open his eyes and tried to will the threatening erection away.

_Tell him to get out, to leave you alone. What made him think you wanted to see him?_

Severus forced himself to relax, desperate to stop the waves of arousal that were about to prove he wasn't asleep anymore. He felt tears of frustration prickle his eyelids when he failed. 

_Just go. Let me be. The voice in his mind was begging now. _

Sirius could count the man's ribs if he wanted, even over the thick cotton of Severus' nightdress. Like a bird's chest, a sparrow or more likely a malnourished crow, staying still, too afraid to move under Sirius' touch, its little bird heart beating madly.

Sirius did not fail to notice that Severus' heart was beating much too fast for a sleeping man, as well as a suspicious bulge on the bedcovers. He ached to touch it, confirm that it was real but he stopped himself, thinking of the quick heartbeat and carefully regular breathing. Only thing missing was a fake snore. If that was the way Severus wanted to play it, Sirius would not argue.

Twisted like a letter s, occupying as little space on the bed as possible and fighting not to cling onto the other man nor fall off the bed was not conductive to a good night's sleep yet Sirius could count that morning as one of his few and cherished moments of pure happiness. Skin-grow on his chin and neck itched like hell. Eventually, fake sleep had given its place to the real thing again for the injured man in bed with him and Severus' face had fit perfectly in the crook of Sirius' neck.

Sirius turned reluctantly at the sound of the opening door.

Pomfrey's eyes met his. He acknowledged her with a nod. She didn't have to tell him that even though the students would not be flocking to visit the Potions Master it would not do to have anyone find him in bed with another man. Or woman, coming to think of it. The poor dears would get the shock of their lives.

"Nothing happened," he muttered as Pomfrey wiped carefully the skin-grow off his face.

"I should think not. With the amount of Tranquillus in his system that would be near impossible."

Sirius decided to keep for himself the fact that he had gotten a noteworthy reaction from the other man. Mediwizard journals would have to get the information from elsewhere. 

The gauze with which Pomfrey was cleaning up his face was soothing on his inflamed skin. "Have a good wash when you get to your rooms," she murmured. "How you could stand the itch is beyond me."

"When can I see him again?"

"It's up to him."

_Forget it then. There's no way he'll ask to see me._

Puppy eyes didn't work on the mediwitch. "I shouldn't have let you into his room yesterday either. Under Tranquillus he was in no condition to agree to see you or not. If he wants to see you I'll send for you. Now shoo, off to your work so I can do mine!"

_Off to lie in bed and stare at the ceiling while Oliver Wood coaches the children and does a far better job than you could ever hope to do. Off to continue enjoying your vacation from your made-up teaching post._

Pomfrey's expression softened. "You know how he is, Sirius," she said gently. "If you really want this, give him some time. I'll put in a good word for you."

_If you really want this.__ If you're not playing with him. If you won't hurt him, you big Gryffindor bully._

"Thank you," Sirius whispered. "I don't think it will do any good but thank you."

Pomfrey checked outside to protect her patient's reputation. At 6:30 am there was no one there to see an unshaved, dishevelled Sirius Black leave the Potions Master's room.


	7. 7

Chapter 7

"Unless you're here to tell me that what you said this morning was a sick joke, kindly get out."

Severus turned his back to the Headmaster, leaving only his glossy black hair visible from where Albus was standing. The old man was happy to see that the Professor could move much more easily, even if it had been to make a display of turning away from him the moment he walked into the room.

"There's no need for this childish behaviour, Severus. My decision still stands," Albus said sternly. "It is only two weeks before the term ends," he added in a placating tone.

"The answer is still no."

A very strong sense of déjà vu hit Albus. Only a week ago he'd had the same conversation with Sirius.

"Severus, when you came to teach at Hogwarts I gave you total freedom over the curriculum. You had your students brewing potions of a complexity that few Potions Masters would attempt themselves, let alone supervise an entire class of teenagers working on them."

"If there's a point, please make it," Severus said without turning.

"If you insist on going straight back to teaching the minute you're discharged, I will have a say in what your 'dunderheads' will get to attempt."

Severus turned slowly, anger and hurt glinting in his eyes. Dumbledore had seen that glint many times over the years but had not stopped causing it.

"A return to Jigger's days of indigestion potions and mouthwash?"

"If that's what it would take to make sure I won't be visiting you here again, or worse, then I will do it."

"Then you'd better start looking for a replacement."

The old man let out a heavy sigh. What had he expected? In all the years he'd known Severus, what indeed?

"Perhaps I'm the one who should start looking for a replacement," Albus said sadly.

The dark eyes narrowed. "What are you on about?"

"To be honest, I never expected to survive the war, Severus."

"Listening to Trelawney's predictions is never good for one's morale."

"I'm serious." He was. Partly. This was his usual frail old man routine that always worked on Severus. "It is better at times to quit while you're still ahead. I should not have let you go on teaching right after Remus died."

Severus flinched. "This accident could have happened at any time!"

"It happened now, Severus, and it isn't your fault. I should have foreseen it!"

Severus let his head fall back on the pillow. "Fine. You win. Until the end of term I won't set foot in a classroom."

"Would you also consider a change of setting?"

"I see. Once more you're trying to pack me off to Snape Manor."

"You should not let your family estate fall to ruin."

"Of course not. What will the future generations of Snapes inherit? Oh wait… there'll never be any! Trust me Albus, that wreck suits the last Snape just fine."

Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his nose. "It would do you good to go back even for a short visit. To make your peace."

"With the house? It's only mortar and stone, ugly furniture…"

"And memories. Just memories. They can't hurt you anymore."

Severus closed his eyes. "He wasn't such a bad father. Just wrong for me. Very wrong."

Albus had an entirely different opinion of the man who had taught his son all the Unforgivables by the age of six. All Albus had been able to do for the child was to accept him at Hogwarts as early as possible. Morten Snape had objected at first, but Dumbledore had threatened him with Azkaban. It had been an empty threat. Dumbledore had known perfectly well that nothing would have forced Severus to talk about the things his father had made him learn at an age when other wizard children had yet to touch a wand.

"I can't make you leave."

"I understand that," the younger man said wearily, keeping his eyes closed. "I'd like to get some rest," he whispered.

Albus bid his goodbye and left Severus' room.

**

"There's more skin-grow on the pillow than on your face at the moment!" Pomfrey said sternly.

The injured man turned to face her. The skin-grow was no longer a vivid blue, especially on his cheeks where telltale trails explained his red-rimmed eyes.

"What have you given me?" he asked harshly. "This isn't Tranquillus."

"You had an unaccountable tolerance to it, I'm afraid."

The thin lips curled up into a snarl. "An unaccountable tolerance?" he repeated.

"You know better than I that it is a controlled substance. Which means nothing when we're dealing with a Potions Master of your stature."

"That sounds an awful lot like an accusation," Severus hissed.

"I prefer to think of it as a warning," Pomfrey said quietly. "I gave you a Tranquillus variant. A certain loss of control over your emotions is an unfortunate side effect."

Another tear rolled down a blue-coated cheek. Snape had had a hard time keeping his cool during the talk with Albus.  After the Headmaster had finally left him alone, the tears had started to fall and wouldn't stop.

"If you give me this witches' brew again," he spat, "I will not be responsible for my actions!"

Cold fury flashed in Pomfrey's eyes.

"Listen to me, you stubborn fool," she hissed. "You need to sleep to heal properly, and a calming potion is the only way. I won't release you looking like something out of a Muggle horror film! I will try to find another variant, one to which you will hopefully respond and won't have serious side effects. You're treading on thin ice here, Severus. I'll let you off this time, but if you endanger the children again by showing up to teach drugged up to your eyeballs, your student-torturing days will be over for good."

The man had brought his bandaged hand up over his face, his whole body trembling. "Stop… please," he whispered brokenly. He didn't have the strength to deny her accusation, and even though he had been perfectly sober when the explosion happened her words were bitter truth.

Pomfrey's tone softened. "I'm on your side. I always have been."

Snape felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, part of him wishing for an impersonal mediwizard who would give him just the bare facts, judge him, and report him. Not someone who would keep his shameful secret, stroke his hair then gently pry away his hands to clean his tear-soaked face. He kept his eyes closed as the mediwitch reapplied the skin-grow working quickly and silently.

"_Sommeil would be a good choice," Snape whispered. "It has almost the same base  as the Draught of the Living Dead but isn't as potent. It is not widely used in Britain, but from what I know, it isn't illegal."_

"I'll keep it in mind," Pomfrey replied. "Now just try to relax."

Snape followed her orders for once. When sleep claimed him, it was heavy and mercifully dreamless.

The next afternoon Madam Pomfrey pronounced him fit to receive visitors. He remembered more clearly than he would have liked the fact that Sirius Black had been to see him, as well as Dumbledore but only after spending three days in the Infirmary did Pomfrey open his room to the general public.

He was still too blue for his liking, but he accepted the visit by Parvati Patil's parents and twin sister. When they asked him if there was anything they could do for him, he managed to stop himself from saying that the only thing he wanted was reassurance that they wouldn't let their Gryffindor daughter breed. He also held his acid tongue when he was told that Parvati and Dean Thomas were engaged and gracefully declined the invitation to attend the party, reassuring a tearful Mrs Patil that there was absolutely no reason to postpone the ghastly affair on his account. _Sommeil seemed to be working miracles on his infamous temper._

Faced with the rare sight of a mellow Snape, Pomfrey decided to ask him whether he'd like to see Sirius. The misery Pomfrey had seen in Sirius' eyes for three days straight had softened her considerably, and in view of the Patils' visit, she could no longer use the excuse that Snape was too drugged to decide whether to see him or not.

"Why won't he leave me alone?" Snape murmured, closing his eyes.

"Because he cares," Pomfrey replied gently. "Because he knows what you're going through better than anyone."

Snape gave out a bitter laugh. "He knows nothing of what I'm going through. He was in Azkaban. He's not the one who wasted fifteen years that he could have spent…" _with Remus. He swallowed hard. "It doesn't matter. Nothing matters," he whispered._

"What should I tell Sirius?"

"Tell him to sod off."


	8. 8

Disclaimer: Not mine, JKR's. It's probably better that way.

Archive: Sure, just ask.

Chapter 8

"So, have you decided what you're going to do for you vacation?"

"I'll be making presents for everyone here and then I'll dress as Father Christmas and deliver them."

Dumbledore smiled despite himself. "I wish you wouldn't scorn Christmas so much, Severus."

"Their only redeeming quality is that most of the students will go home."

Albus knew that that was the only thing that helped Severus stomach Christmas back to the time he was a student. He said as much to the other man.

The Potions Master gave out a snort. "I'm essentially the same person."

The new skin on Severus' face was a little tender and rather pink but as Pomfrey had reassured him it would soon get its usual sallow hue. Severus had demanded that only Pomfrey and Dumbledore be allowed in his room until that happened.

Next to his bed there was a low stack of get-well cards. Most of them were rather formal from the other members of staff but there was also a huge one from the Patil family that had come along with an enormous potted plant that Snape had banished from his room the moment he saw it. There were also a couple of cards from his students. The initials HP signed one in which the annoying little brat urged him to stop putting his body between him and danger, his debt to the Potter family had been repaid thrice over and that he should think about putting on the Sorting Hat again and see if it wouldn't put him in Gryffindor. Severus had been too stunned by the brat's cheek to mutter a simple _Incendio__ and had tossed the offending card along with the others. The only other student's card read a simple "Get well soon". It was unsigned but Severus knew well Longbottom's untidy scrawl. He'd been oddly touched, a fact he would have liked to attribute to that infernal Tranquillus variant but he'd been on Sommeil by then._

"Seriously now, have you given any thought in what you're going to do during your holiday?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "For the last time, I'm not going to Snape Manor."

Albus laughed. "I was thinking of something else."

"Like what?"

"Your research."

Severus looked up, his hands gripping the bedsheet tightly. "My… research?" he repeated.

"On a lycanthropy cure… perhaps cure is stretching it a bit… Of a way to slow down werewolf metabolism."

"There's little point in that now, is there?"

Albus peered at Snape over his spectacles in that infuriatingly benign way of his. Snape met the gaze levelly. "There are others who would benefit," Albus said.

A snort came from the other man. "What am I? The patron saint of werewolves? My motives were… personal. You know that."

"You would be certain to receive a Paracelsus."

"And join the ranks of Jigger and the other glory seeking quacks? No, thank you."

"How about relinquishing your study to someone else?"

Disbelief flooded the black eyes. "You must be joking! First of all, there is no research, Albus! Just… desperate fumbling…"

It was Dumbledore's turn to snort in disbelief. "Where is that proud Severus I used to know? Fumbling? Nothing you've produced has ever been "fumbling". You possess a gift, an analytical mind unlike any I've ever encountered. You would have made wonders in Ravenclaw."

Severus chuckled. "Funny, the Hat had said the same thing when I was sorted."

"And what did you say?"

"I begged it to put me in Slytherin. Wouldn't want to disappoint father even though you had taken me away from him."

"I should have done something sooner," Dumbledore murmured.

"You should have made Dementor feed out of the brilliant young Grindelwald sympathiser instead of letting him back to his laboratory," Snape said in a matter of fact tone.

Dumbledore was quiet.

"I know you were at the Council then. I've known for quite some time. If you could, would you do anything differently?"

Dumbledore shook his head.

The younger man gave out a sigh. "I can't stay in bed anymore. I'm not an invalid."

"You would consider my suggestion then?" the Headmaster said hopefully, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief that Snape had decided to get out of that little detour to the past.

Severus brought his hands to his face rubbing tiredly at his forehead. "I can't bear to look at my notes," he whispered behind the cover of his fingers more to himself than to Albus.

The old man stroked his former student's bent head. "I understand that it is too soon," he said softly, "but I need your help."

Three magic words that his Slytherin would always respond to, risk his life, his sanity, lie, betray, kill. There were times when the power he had over Severus overwhelmed the old wizard. Snape removed his hands from his face. Dumbledore met the sharp black eyes giving the younger man a warm smile that was not answered.

"It has to do with a student…" Albus began.

"A werewolf student?"

"Yes. He was bitten during the war and hasn't come back to the school. Remus had talked to him to try to convince him."

Severus gave a start remembering a mysterious trip that Remus had refused to discuss. He'd just left on his own. Black hadn't known where he was either and Severus had gotten for a moment the fearful notion of a sick animal going off to die on its own. Black had been his usual oblivious self, misreading Severus' anxiety and accusing him of having had a fight with Remus that had made their lover take off.

Albus squeezed Severus' hand, seeing the memories in his pained expression. "Remus did not succeed in convincing the boy right away and then… Well, when he died, you can imagine what a blow that was. The boy's parents say that he's lost his will to live."

"Who is this student?"

"If you're not going to help him, I believe it would be best to protect his privacy."

Said without a hint of reproach however Albus saw the guilt in Severus' eyes just as he had expected.

"Touché," the younger man said bitterly. He took a deep breath. "Supposing I wanted to help the boy, you do realise that I can't do it alone. I'd need to keep his system free of anything else, even wolfsbane."

"You'd need someone to protect you from an attack. Perhaps an Animagus…"

Snape groaned. "Subtle as a ton of bricks."

"Severus, as much as you loathe to admit it, Sirius and you worked well together during the war. Furthermore, you've both been close to a werewolf and could help…" Albus' voice trailed off. "You _must help him, Severus. Regardless of whether you can save his life or delay his death, you must convince him to return to Hogwarts."_

"I believe I've made my position clear on having a werewolf at Hogwarts," Snape said harshly.

"Who better to convince the boy to come back than you, then? You and Sirius are the only ones who can do it."

"Where Remus failed? I honestly don't see it."

"You'll give him hope, Severus."

"I'll simply experiment on him. You'll need Black for the encouragement. Have you talked to him by the way?"

"He's not the one I'm counting on having a hard time persuading."

After the first two days I'd stopped asking Pomfrey whether he'd like to see me. I simply passed by for two more days. The last day she told me the only person he allowed in was Dumbledore.

"Let me see him, please," I whispered."

"Don't take it personally, Sirius. He's sensitive about how he looks still."

Her reassuring smile grated on my nerves. Abruptly I transformed, battled my sudden urge to piss on her leg, gave out a low growl that made her take a step back and bolted out of the Infirmary.

Padfoot's life is not complicated. He runs and hunts and howls at the moon. He goes back to his rooms, muzzle still dripping blood, fur matted and dirty. Harry did not deserve that sight so I wouldn't let him in before making myself presentable.

I'd left my door unlocked, unwilling to transform even for the few seconds it would have taken me to let Harry in. He crinkled his nose at the wet dog smell. I wagged my tail feebly. Concern clouded his eyes. He probably believes what they say about Animagi having gotten stuck in their animal form forever after remaining transformed for inordinate amounts of time. He forgets the days, months, years, I spent as a dog in Azkaban to no apparent ill effects.

I hate to cause this sadness in Harry's eyes. Did he hear my howls yesterday night? They were cathartic even though my throat hurts today.

"I came to see my godfather, not Snuffles."

I couldn't oblige him. I love him but I couldn't.

Harry shook his head and left. He would not pressure me. Shame rose in my chest. I could never be what Harry needed. I never gave him anything that mattered.

I transformed for Dumbledore, the old man would have none of this silliness. I thought I was hearing things when he told me that Severus had agreed to go on a mission with me. It has been a while since we've had a mission together. I remember him during the war. Efficient, resourceful and courageous enough to put several Gryffindors to shame. Qualities I'd grudgingly recognised even then though at the time I'd had no idea I'd one day be howling over his rejection. No idea that his hair is fine and soft, his pale skin silky, his thin lips so sweet.

He didn't give himself to me completely until after I'd finally been told of Remus' illness. He'd take me in, is mouth on mine, his hands in my hair, his legs holding me tight. He'd twine around me like devil's snare and show me rather than tell me what he wanted. Faster and harder and there. So intense there were times I'd feel my heart pounding so hard in my chest it seemed about to escape it. So hard that quite often there'd be droplets of blood on the sheets afterwards. I'd tried to avoid that. I had absolutely no desire to hurt him even when that was what he wanted. He had never hurt me in bed, controlled and tender, preparing me with his fingers and his mouth until I would beg him wordlessly to take me, shamelessly backing against him, grunting and whimpering.

I had not expected this consideration, those sensual assaults of his. When we were at school together I'd deemed him too ugly and stiff to deserve a partner he hadn't paid or forced. I think I'd even told him as much on several occasions. Catching Remus giving the slimy Slytherin I hated a taste of the pleasures we'd discovered together had been a shock unlike any I'd ever had in my then short life. It had been impossible to understand why Remus had been on his knees in front of Snape without having been forced or blackmailed or bewitched.

There's a nice story to tell Harry! Remus smelt me and turned to my direction imperceptibly, his mouth still fastened on Severus' prick. I left as quickly as I could as though I'd been the one at fault, tears running down my face. Burning rage had dried the tears by the time James found me. I hadn't been able to tell him much besides that Snape had done something. "As always," James must have thought and told me to ignore the greasy git.

The timing had been awful. Had all this happened long before the full moon I think my anger would have cooled down by then. Instead what I did was pass Severus a slip of paper with instructions on how to get past the Whomping Willow to see the lovely surprise waiting for him. Copying Remus' handwriting had been no problem, it's not as if Remus ever wrote a Transfiguration essay in his life just like I never wrote a Defence against the Dark Arts essay.

It was a clever little note, short and suggestive written on a parchment charmed to burn up a few minutes after being unfolded. Peter delivered it. Remus had confided in him and used him as a messenger before so Snape wouldn't suspect anything. The little rat had shown no qualms about helping me out with my prank, his beady eyes shining maliciously. He hadn't let his part be known afterwards when Remus had started being with him all the time, avoiding me and being just barely civil to James who had refused to shun me.

Near the end of our studies at Hogwarts we managed to recapture a semblance of what our friendship had been. A few nights Remus had even let me in his bed. He'd been lonely and miserable and gay werewolves can't be choosers.

The memories have left a bitter taste in my mouth. Just going over what happened in my mind hurts too much to even consider sometime telling Harry what I did.

It's better to dream of the future, of any future I'm fooling myself into believing I could have with Snape. For the next few weeks he'll have no choice but to be with me. In my little fantasy world he's already under me, his long limbs wrapped around me. I'm whispering sweet nothings in his ear as I take him in a languid, perfect pace. My fist is a poor substitute for his tight heat as I stroke myself, trying to keep the slow pace, trying to hold on to his image. Unconsciously I pick up speed, lying in this bed that we never shared I've brought up his memory so clearly I can smell him. Perhaps I've spent too much time as a dog since this is exactly the memory that takes me to the edge. I arch into my fist and find my release. In my mind, so does he. His features are strained, his mouth half open. Black eyes close for just a second then snap open again, staring hard at me. I savoured those few times when he'd let me take him face to face. When he wouldn't shake me off him right away but would bear my weight still joined as our heartbeats would slowly get back to normal.


	9. 9

Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Last time I checked they were still JKR's… Just borrowing them for a while, promise to put them back. I'm not making a knut from this.

Archive: Sure, just ask. I'm sure I won't say no.

A/N My gratitude to Fara for her beta. All the mistakes are mine.

Chapter 9

Muggle trains are not that different from our own. There's just more noise, more stops and they jerk a lot. Opposite me Severus looks rather uncomfortable but what can he say? It was his choice after all.

I'd suggested Apparating but he's too paranoid for that. He doesn't believe Ministry reassurances that Apparition tracking has ceased since the War ended. His magical signature was keyed in, as was mine, and this is a mission that the Ministry need not know about. Flooing and portkeying there were also ruled out by the fact that the area we will be going to is predominantly Muggle.

A more private and less uncomfortable Muggle means of transportation would have been a rented car but neither of us can drive, or rather Severus thought he could until he got in the car we had wanted to rent and realised he didn't even remember how to start it. We had left the frowning Hertz woman with my reassurances that there was nothing wrong with the automobile but we needed to think about it some more. I'd had my arm around Severus' shoulders as I led him away and we had nearly gotten out of the office before he finally shook off my arm and hissed at me to leave him alone, in a tone more weary than angry.

My next suggestion had earned me his derisive laugh. My motorcycle. I can stick to the ground like a Muggle if I have to. There's nothing funny about my rusty old companion, sure, being ridden by a half-giant for more than a decade hasn't done it any favours but it still rolls. He would have been behind me, holding on to me, like two knights starting on our mission riding on the same horse. Out of necessity we'd ridden on the same broom before. Back when the War was still raging but I had been too stuck on my old hatred to appreciate the closeness. Or perhaps… perhaps on some level I had appreciated it. I'd hated myself for the warm feeling I'd gotten when he'd put one arm around my waist to steady himself and when his breath had hit my ear even though it had been to hiss "Turn left, you idiot," or something to that extent.

A train it had been. So here I am sitting opposite him in our carriage. His eyes close as he leans against the window for a moment giving out a sigh. His skin looks white. Too white, chalky almost and smooth. It's blurry around the edges, quite grotesque if you look at him for too long. It is a rather bad glamour but then again he'd never been particularly good at wandwork. I can't believe Albus let him leave like that but then I realise that Albus hadn't seen him. Severus had cast the glamour because he hadn't wanted me to see him yet. He could have asked for help but it would have been unthinkable for him, I know it. The glamour was a bit of an extreme measure, Pomfrey assured me that his new skin wasn't that pink. It would have been preferable to this deathly paleness, this taut mask. If I don't look too closely it's as though he's a child again, the sullen boy that I remember.

_Wizards use their wands, Mr Snape. We cannot wait for you to brew a potion to transfigure your mouse. McGonagall's voice comes back to me with perfect clarity but doesn't make me laugh anymore. Not with the way she'd ridicule the boy's impotent rage. The tears that would sometimes flow from his eyes as his transfiguration attempts would go horribly wrong and McGonagall would take points from his House. I don't think he controlled his reaction, perhaps he wasn't even aware of the tears. A tiny black form shaking with anger while Gryffindors and some Slytherins alike laughed at him. The tightening in my chest and the sympathy come 30 years too late._

I've asked Harry about McGonagall. She used to be my favourite Professor and I was well-loved by her as well, perhaps too loved when I'd started my seventh year, though she never crossed the boundaries of propriety, never acted in any way that would be misunderstood. A motherly pat on the head, eyes shining in mischief as she would cover for me or for James, her beloved embodiments of Gryffindor spirit. Harry says she is fair and hasn't heard anything about her being sarcastic to any of her students, even the Slytherins. I wonder how Severus can take it, being her colleague now, seeing her every day and remembering. Having stayed at the school all these years has not been good for him. His grudges are old yet still hurt him.

I remember Severus had been a similar disaster at Charms but Flitwick had been kind and encouraging. There is a reason that children below 11 years of age are not allowed a wand. Their magic is primitive and difficult to control. Did McGonagall know that Severus' dismal performance at Transfiguration was not really his fault? Must everything I knew and loved and idealised about my past come crashing down? The Marauders had come first. Peter a traitor and Remus believing for all these years that I had been the one to hand James, Lily and the baby to Voldemort. The old pain cuts me open and I quickly brush away a tear that the dark eyes opposite me had not failed to notice.

He stares at me questioningly.

"Did McGonagall know that you'd started at Hogwarts two years early?" I blurt out as though it has any relevance.

He frowns, probably trying to reconcile my question with the tear. "Albus had told all of them."__

_You asked for it. I'm not young and innocent anymore (was I ever?) to need to respect and love my Head of House yet it hurts me to know McGonagall's cruelty._

"Hasn't it been difficult for you to have to see her every day as a professor at Hogwarts?"

"Ask her Gryffindors about it."

I laugh. Revenge is sweet they say. He's definitely taken his revenge on me though I don't think my crimes should have awarded me so hard a punishment. Nor are McGonagall's Gryffindors deserving of his treatment, Harry least of all.

His lips twitch as though he is about to join me in laughter but catches himself.

I try to recall something from the past, to see if I can see it from his perspective. I remember… it must have been our second year. James and I hadn't really taken to teasing him yet. We were waiting for a professor so that class would start… McGonagall I think and I noticed that he had something in his hands, a small pink ribbon. He set it on the desk for a moment and I managed to pinch it and put it in my hair. It was just for a laugh, I'd give it back right away. He didn't notice me at first, he was too busy digging into his book-bag… I remember that bag had seemed larger than him then.

_"Give that back!" he yelled when he'd finally noticed me. I mimicked his high-pitched squeak. Unlike everyone else in our year his voice had not started to break yet… how could it have? I realise he was only 10 years old and we were 12… The feeling is like a punch in the gut yet I continue to explore the memory as though I'm probing a loose tooth. Loose and rotten._

I threw back my hair and pointed at the ribbon.

"Come and get it," I challenged him.

He stalked at me, his wand at the ready, head bowed, his oily hair obscuring his face. My hand went to the ribbon. "Come on, it was only a joke," did not have a chance to leave my lips. He never had any problem with hexes and curses. To cast them one taps into very basic magic. The desire to harm someone is much stronger than the desire to turn a toad into a lampshade, and my ability to do the latter could not help me in the least when a blast from his wand sent me to the Infirmary for a week. Not much remained from the ribbon nor from my beautiful mane of hair. In fact, the need to stay in the Infirmary had arisen mainly from my unwillingness to be seen bald as a billiard ball. Luckily, I'd escaped the fate of having Lily calling me Kojack – after some bald Muggle I presume – forever. She had not been very sympathetic when she'd come to see me. And I'd noticed that in her hair she'd had only one pink ribbon. It had been a token of affection, I realise in retrospect. She had always been kind to the little boy in a rather motherly way. To me he looked ugly as sin but to her I guess he had appeared helpless and sweet. I could never understand how females think.

I cover my face with my hands and give out a chuckle at the memory. Severus observes my internal dialogue with a frown. He seems about to say something when the compartment door slides open and we're suddenly surrounded by youthful long limbs, laughter, rosy cheeks and bright eyes. The girls cannot be much older than twenty, two attractive, skinny blondes carrying bags on their back, bags in which they could quite possibly fit should they try, I think.

They are Americans, bumbling with excitement, and they apologise for crowding us, offer us their hands and their names and ask our own. Severus fixes them with his deadliest glare but they don't seem to notice. They love England, everything is so old and so beautiful and this and that… I make conversation with them while Severus answers their incessant questions curtly, his upper lip curling up in distaste at their rather peculiar use of English. 

They seem to take their pick from us. I get the one with the large white teeth and well-rounded breasts and Severus the shy one with the doe eyes and the pigtails. There's an innocence about them even though they seem to be flirting with us, paying no attention to the fact that we are both almost old enough to be their fathers. The shy one stares at Severus curiously and I can see why. To a Muggle, the clumsy glamour must look like he has caked his face with makeup. Skin too white, blood red lips and his naturally thick eyelashes dark enough to make it appear as though he's painted his eyelids. And the clothes… A black sweater and black close-fitting jeans that I seem to remember him wearing under his robes back when we were students. I'm surprised that they still fit him. 

I'm more surprised by the fact that I remember perfectly what that boy I hated had been wearing under his robes during our seventh year. When he'd stopped speaking to anyone from other Houses, when he'd taken to wearing long sleeved shirts even when it was boiling hot outside, when he'd sneak out at night to go Merlin knows where. Padfoot had discovered that last bit of information one night when he'd been out and about without his companions. The boy had beckoned him close and had patted his head. Padfoot's human counterpart had urged Padfoot to growl and even bite the hand but the touch had been gentle and dog part hadn't minded it all that much. He'd escorted the tired boy back to the school. The boy had smelt of alcohol, and wet leaves and most of all, sex.

I'd told James about it, leaving out the part when my traitorous dog-half had accepted the pat on the head and wagged his tail, and he'd stared at me oddly. He'd had his theories about Snape and the other Slytherins in our year but said I should just forget about him, he was not worth getting expelled over. His voice had held an edge he'd seldom take with me. 

"I wonder who the slimy git is shagging," I'd said with a forced laugh.

"Well, not Moony anymore, you made sure of that."

I'd given a start. James had never blamed me for nearly making Remus a murderer, judging Remus' anger to be enough punishment. But that day I'd seen a warning glint in his eyes behind his spectacles. I was to stay away from Snape and I did, focussing all of my energy into winning back Remus.

The girl's concern brings me back to the here and now. I apologise for my inattention and she wonders whether she has tired us staring pointedly at Severus who is hiding behind a Muggle newspaper. I assure her that my companion is always antisocial and it has nothing to do with them. He snorts and murmurs that it has everything to do with them.


	10. 10

Chapter 10

"We get off at the next."

Snape nodded in reply to Sirius. The Animagus brought down their suitcases, getting a glare rather than a "thank you" from his companion.

The girls shouldered their enormous backpacks. The buck-toothed one, _the de facto leader, Snape thought, smiled Black a presumably dashing smile. The other one did not waste one on Snape, staring at her friend with trepidation._

"Seems like a good enough place to see next."

The timid one didn't seem to agree but said nothing. Snape gave her a disdainful look that did not improve her flustered state.

Snape hefted his suitcase with difficulty, wishing he'd remembered when he'd packed that levitating one's luggage is not an option for Muggles.

Black smiled to the girls. "I think you should go wherever it is you were originally heading."

The "leader" told the Animagus that they had a rail pass which Snape guessed meant they could go anywhere and flirt with anyone. Only his girl had given up long ago any attempt at flirting with him. In fact, it looked like she would soon abandon any attempt at keeping in touch with reality, faced with her friend's scandalous behaviour. Snape felt a pang of sympathy for her which he tried very hard to transform to scorn but failed.

They got off the train. Snape stumbled as he was touching the ground, the weight of his suitcase almost toppling him forward.

"Sev!" Black cried out. "…erus," he added sheepishly under the frosty glare Snape was giving him. "Are you alright?"

_Am I alright? He was tired. He was so tired he felt as though he would start whimpering soon, like small children do when they've been pushed beyond their limits. When they start crying out of nothing else but sheer exhaustion._

Wordlessly he picked up his suitcase again and headed for one of the displays to see where they'd be getting their next train. Hopefully soon and hopefully alone.

"It's in forty-five minutes. Platform 8," Black announced.

_Let me guess. A cup of coffee while we wait. With them._

Inane chatter, Muggles everywhere, making Snape wish for a new Voldemort to follow. Chanting "Death to Muggles" had been a favourite among his hooded former friends.

Black left to call the boy's parents on the telephone to let them know when to expect them. Snape didn't even pretend to make conversation with the girls. His thoughts went to the Finch-Fletchleys. How were they coping? The first shock had been around 10 years ago. "Mr and Mrs Muggle, your son is nothing like you. He has to live in a different world now, attend a school that you can't even see, let alone visit and be with people a large part of whom see you and other Muggles as vermin."

And now…

"Well, forgive me, Mr and Mrs Muggle, your son now transforms into a beast once a month and I suggest you find somewhere to lock him up unless you have access to illegal wolfsbane. Illegal, since I assume the poor bugger had sense enough not to get registered… Right! Knockturn Alley it will be then and you'll just have to hope that whoever sells you wolfsbane under the counter will not poison your only son and heir. Who will most likely be dead before you, anyway…"

Oblivious to his surroundings, Snape pressed his hand on his forehead, giving out a low moan.

"Severus, are you alright?" Black's hand was pressing gently on his shoulder, his cool fingers grazing Snape's neck. The Potions Master fought an urge to press the cool hand against his forehead, as if this could somehow take his throbbing headache away.

"I'm fine," he murmured, shaking off the Animagus' hand. "Why don't you simply tell those two twits that we're just a couple of old fruits?" he added maliciously. "You keep touching me but I don't think they've gotten the point yet."

There was a gasp of horror from the tall one, while the timid one erupted in laughter. "They… are… gay…" she croaked.

Sirius's gaze went from his companion to the two girls, one struck dumb, the other still giggling hysterically.

Snape felt for the first time in months something tickling at the back of his throat and realised it was laughter. It sounded strange to his own ears when it joined the girl's shrill giggles.

"But… ," the taller girl said.

"Fuck you, Sue," the other girl snapped, no longer the mousy creature which had deserved Snape's contempt. She turned to the two wizards.

"It was nice to meet you," she said, in a voice still threatening to break into laughter. "We're going to Bath now, which is where I wanted to go. I'm sure Sue will have no objections."

Sue gave Sirius one more longing gaze, making Snape feel like grabbing the Animagus and kissing him if only to spite her. He settled for taking the other man's arm and heading towards their platform.

The Animagus suddenly stopped.

"What is it?"

"We don't have to take the train. They sent their chauffer to pick us up, the cottage is only fifteen minutes from here," he said sheepishly.

"Were you planning on informing me of that at some point?"

"With all that happened…"

"Nevermind," Snape breathed a sigh of relief. He couldn't face the prospect of another train. Security troubled him, however.

Black appeared to have guessed the reason for his companion's hesitation.

"It's only fifteen minutes. We weren't exactly inconspicuous in the train either. Especially with this concealment charm of yours."

"Pardon me?"

"You heard me. I'd rather we didn't meet the boy's parents with you looking like a geisha."

Snape glared at the Animagus. Black's smile was taking away the sting of the words. He deftly took a hold of his wand and murmured _finite incantantum before Snape could react._

Snape felt a tingle and realised his protection was gone. Abruptly he lowered his head, letting his hair cover his face. "You fool!" he hissed.

"Severus, you look fine. There's just a slight discoloration, that's all."

Snape felt the hand that was about to pat his shoulder reassuringly. He took a step back. "You used your wand, you bloody fool!"

Black froze. He was about to respond when he noticed a man holding a sign reading "Mr Black and Mr Snape" approaching them.

Snape groaned when he too noticed the man. "Did you mention anything to those dratted Muggles about security?"

"I did. Apparently it didn't sink in."

They followed the chauffer. They were quiet in the car. Snape pressed his forehead against the windowpane, giving out a sigh.

"Headache?"

"Whatever gave you that idea?" Snape sneered, rummaging in his sack for his pain relieving potion. He took a large swig from it, trying his damnest to avoid making a face at the taste.

Sirius tried to make conversation with the chauffer. It didn't go well. The Muggle's answers were monosyllabic. Snape was secretly grateful for that. Discreetly, he took a look at his face on the rearview mirror.

Perhaps Black was right. Perhaps he had overreacted. The new skin was a little pink but he looked normal, more or less. Despite having been called ugly more times than he cared to remember, Snape really had no problem with his appearance. Except when he was a child. He'd have killed then to be just a little taller, bigger, imposing, frightening even. He'd gotten more than he'd bargained for with an intense growth spurt at 13, giving him nosebleeds and the appearance of the class clown in his too short robes and trousers until his father had finally decided to spend some money on his only son.

He'd been eating everything in sight trying to look less like a grasshopper. He'd been swimming in the lake to build muscle and be less awkward and clumsy. He'd been practising in front of a mirror how to look imposing enough, walking swiftly and soundlessly, sweeping in and out of a room. He'd started to fall in love with himself then, applying his knowledge of potions to keeping his complexion clear, even bothering with his hair at times, keeping his usually stained nails clean and well-manicured and most of all… touching himself. It had frightened him, how his sexuality had awoken and demanded more and more of his time. He'd seen the change in all of his schoolmates, being younger than them but he couldn't even begin to understand what it was like until it happened to him.

And then Remus happened to him. Remus's seduction had been slow and methodical, making a blushing, unsure, moody mess out of the formerly controlled, even cold Slytherin. Snape smiled bitterly at where his thoughts had led him. He turned and met Sirius's intense gaze. He held it until the Animagus looked away. Snape felt oddly ashamed when that happened. As though he had just kicked someone who was down, bleeding on the pavement. He let his hand fall and not-so-accidentally rest on the other wizard's.

It was a small cottage. The limousine did not look right parked in front of it. The chauffeur parked then led the two wizards to the front porch. The woman who let them in did not look like she might have any experience answering the door herself. She wore a black mid-length dress, complimented with a string of impossibly large pearls. Snape had a suspicion they were real.

She led them to the sitting room. It was small and cramped with furniture, most of it rather old and worn. A man was sitting in one of the armchairs. He rose to meet them, towering above the two tired wizards. His head was bald, his eyes a dull grey, his nose thin and long, in all, not much to look at. Only his lips stood out, luscious and plump and so at odds with the rest of him, they made him look ridiculous. 

Nervously he extended a hand to Snape, as though he wasn't sure whether shaking hands was the norm for wizards. 

"I'm Edward Finch-Fletchley and this is my wife, Catherine."

Snape shook the hand limply then turned and greeted the woman with a curt nod. Black smiled to both Muggles and shook their hands.

Snape took a good look at the woman, when he'd managed to extricate his gaze from the huge pearls on her neck. She had to be in her mid-forties but in bad light could easily pass for someone not a day over thirty. She had regular features, rather plain, except for her eyes. Large, cobalt-blue, shaded with thick eyelashes. She motioned the men to sit with a curt gesture. Her husband was the first to obey, leaving very little doubt in Snape's mind as to who was wearing the trousers in this family.

Speaking of family…

"Is your son here?" Snape asked politely.

The woman looked up in surprise, as though her son wasn't the reason the two men had come. "Your Headmaster thought it would be best if I told you what happened. The memory is very painful for Justin and he doesn't want to relive it." A sharp intake of breath from the direction of Edward Finch-Fletchley told Snape that the other male member of the family was equally unwilling to go down that path again.

Black gave the woman a warm smile. "We understand that it is difficult."

_And pointless, thought Snape. __What do we care exactly how it happened? The end result is the same. The boy is a werewolf. At the same time he knew that the two Muggles __needed to share what happened with someone who would understand. He too nodded when Black told the woman to tell them everything._

She looked from Severus to Sirius and seemed to prefer locking her gaze with the Animagus's. Her husband was focussed on some point of great interest located on the worn carpet.

She described the attack in detail, sometimes her voice trailing off, her eyes filling with tears, others speaking with a frightening detachment. It had happened in their summer home, near Bristol. It was in the middle of the night. They had hardly heard anything until the animal headed upstairs. It had already killed their cook who found it in the kitchen and it was covered in her blood. "Sally, she'd been with the family for years," she said and briskly brushed away a tear. "Justin heard it. He came out with his wand but it happened too quickly. The wolf went for his throat. There was a shot".

Her husband interrupted her at that point. He still kept his eyes on the floor.

"I shot it," he said "but didn't kill it. It bit on Justin's arm. I shot it again, Justin was screaming," the man's voice shook. "I don't know how many shots it took… it… it wouldn't die. It wouldn't let go of Justin's arm…" the man's voice trailed off.

Snape tried to swallow and found out that he couldn't. He turned to Justin's mother. "Could I have something to drink, please? Tea, perhaps?" his voice was strangled.

The woman gave out a nervous laugh. "Where are my manners? Of course, I'll make some."

Black was staring at Snape so hard the Potions Master could positively _feel him. __If he asks me how I am, I'll hex him._

The man seemed glad for the respite. He stared from Severus to Sirius. The Potions Master wondered how he must look to get a sympathetic gaze from the Muggle who looked like hell himself. Snape turned to the Animagus. Black avoided his gaze. Werewolves had been a taboo subject in their arrangement, back when Remus was still alive. By unspoken agreement, Black had been the one to stay with Remus during the full moon. Snape loved the man but could not bear to face the beast, not even under wolfsbane. He'd seen the transformation only in the medical ward, at Hogwarts. It had been Remus's last transformation. The wolf had looked as pitiful as the man, yellow teeth, sparse fur, each bone showing clearly under the loose hide.

Black got up and made for the kitchen. Snape accepted gratefully the glass of water he brought him. Mrs. Finch-Fletchley seemed to have serious difficulty with that tea. "Perhaps I should go help her," her husband murmured. "We have no servants here because of Justin, you understand." 

The two wizards nodded. Snape had serious doubts that the man would prove to be more skilled in the kitchen than his wife was but he didn't argue.

At some point the two Muggles did manage to produce something that resembled tea. They got back in the living room. The woman's eyes were red and there was a misery in her husband's expression which told them that he had probably been to blame for the tears.

"When did all this happen?" Snape asked quietly. He was holding the cup in his hand, welcoming its warmth. There was a fire blazing in the room. The chill Snape felt seemed to be coming from the inside, accompanied by the bitter taste of old fear in his mouth that the too sweet tea couldn't wash away.

"A little more than a year ago," the man replied. He passed a hand over his face. "I can't believe it has been so long."

"Has he had access to wolfsbane?"

The man nodded. "Your Headmaster took control of the situation. After I killed the animal it…" he stopped abruptly.

"It turned into a man," Black said gently.

Justin's mother took over. "Justin was bleeding and he was begging us whatever we did, not to call the police. We bound his wounds as best we could and then he contacted your Headmaster. Dumbledore sent two wizards and a witch. They told us Death Eaters were behind what happened. The wizards took the… the body away and the witch took care of Justin. She seemed to know him."

Snape looked up sharply at the mention of Death Eaters. He knew the attack had not been an accident, other Muggleborns had been targeted as well. Voldemort had drawn to his ranks many werewolves hungry for human flesh. Absent-mindedly he rubbed at his left arm. He felt Sirius's gaze and abruptly let go. There was no mark anymore, only a shadow of where it had been. He had scratched the skin time and again, worried the scabs to watch the blood flow. It had been a habit that had remained even after the mark had disappeared following the Dark Lord's demise. Remus would try to stop him, kiss the wounded flesh with an acceptance that Snape didn't want. He much preferred Black's reaction: avoiding it, screwing his face up in disgust at the sight, laughing at Snape.

"It's gone yet you still want to be a marked man," Black told him once, pulling at the hand that had been scratching the tender skin. He stroked at Snape's hair, idle fingers twirling a lock, so casually, so simply. Snape kept his back turned not wanting to fully wake up. He'd been clawing at his hand in his sleep not even the stinging pain enough to wake him. 

"Don't be so melodramatic, Black. It's just an eczema," he murmured sleepily. Black chuckled then, warm alcohol-scented breath against Snape's face. Black's touch became bolder and Severus granted him access, still not having quite woken up. They were both so quiet that Remus just gave out a whimper and changed sides. 

Snape set down his cup of tea carefully, avoiding the other wizard's gaze. The memory troubled him. In general, he tried not to remember the times when it had been only Black and himself. Yet they would sneak up on him, triggered by a touch, a casual remark, the other man's expression. And he would get a strange feeling in his middle, not quite arousal, more like a sort of hunger.

Snape suddenly realised that a silence had fallen. He wasn't exactly sure when the woman had stopped talking but when he looked up he saw the two Muggles watching him with anticipation. So was Black. He felt the weight of those gazes and hated them all with a passion sudden and brief as the flame of a match. It left only weariness in its wake. He turned to Mrs. Finch-Fletchley.

 "You don't have to tell us anything else," he said quietly. 

The woman nodded gratefully. "I should show you to your rooms," she said quickly. "Goran – our chauffeur- has taken your luggage upstairs. I'm afraid you're going to have to share a room."

"It is no trouble," Black said.

Snape made a grimace of distaste but said nothing.

The room was small and impersonal. Two single beds, a dresser, a large closet… that was about it. It smelt faintly of closed space.

Severus turned to the two Muggles. "There are only two bedrooms. Where will you be sleeping?"

They stared up at him, startled. The woman replied. "We're going back to London tonight. Justin doesn't want us here near the full moon."

The man was studying the floor. He was biting his lower lip and Snape could have sworn his grey eyes were suspiciously shiny. 

_You disagree, don't you, Mr Muggle. You want to be with the boy but wouldn't dare go against Mrs Muggle._

Snape didn't know what prompted him to do this, yet he reached and placed his hand on the man's arm.

"I'm sorry about this," he said gravely. 

"We will try our best to help Justin," Black assured the woman who had now produced a handkerchief and was wiping away easy tears.

Snape kept his eyes at the man's pale face and when the helpless gaze met his something broke in his chest. He made no promises, gave no encouraging smiles and meaningless words of comfort. He simply squeezed the man's arm once and let go.

Black asked when Justin would be getting there. Embarrassed, the woman told him that she wasn't sure. He kept strange hours.

The Potions Master searched his memory for the quiet Hufflepuff he hadn't seen in too long. He came up with next to nothing besides the fact that the boy had spent a large part of his second year in the Infirmary, frozen. He couldn't even remember what he looked like. Hufflepuffs very rarely left much of an impression. Sheep, his Slytherins called them, Snape must have called them that as well in his school years though he couldn't really remember anymore. He'd conveniently forgotten all the name-calling he'd been involved in along with his Slytherin mates. Especially since it had involved calling students of other Houses names much more serious than "sheep".

Black stayed in the kitchen to make himself dinner while Snape retired upstairs. Black tried to tempt him to eat something by listing everything he found in the Finch-Fletchley's refrigerator. Snape had been halfway up the stairs when the Animagus finally realised he had been talking to himself.

The boy hadn't gotten home by the time Black also went to bed. He tried not to make noise as he was getting in. Irritably, Snape told him to turn on the light, it wasn't as though he'd managed to get any sleep. After some fumbling the Animagus finally found it. Both wizards had been given a crash course on the Muggle world before leaving Hogwarts but it seemed that some things were proving to be a lot harder in practice than they'd appeared.

As he was undressing, Black casually took out his wand and tossed it on the bed. He turned to Snape.

"Severus?"

"Yes?"

"This wand is unregistered. I'm telling you now because I've decided to transfigure this sorry excuse for a bed and I'd rather not have you jumping on me," he smiled mischievously and added, "not in the literal sense at least."

The Potions Master felt his cheeks burn and realised his face must have turned a uniform pink. 

"I was using it when I was on the run. Olivander had sold it to me."

Snape stared at the Animagus in astonishment. "How on earth…"

"He set a price and I made it. He didn't care about the rest. Don't look at me like that, Severus. Olivander doesn't really care about these things. To be honest, I don't think he's exactly human. And I was innocent!" he added defensively.

Snape shrugged. "I'm impressed," he said dryly. 

"No need to apologise about biting my head off when I used my wand at the train station," the Animagus chided.

"Don't hold your breath."

Sirius laughed at that. He had a clear laugh, a laugh that Snape had heard way too many times at his expense. Indulgent, ever-cheerful, optimistic, Gryffindor laugh. But Snape couldn't hate that laugh anymore. Not when it had survived Azkaban.

"Perhaps you could do something about my bed as well," Snape said gruffly.

With a flick of his wand Black meshed the two beds into a four poster that filled the entire room. Replete with large, comfy pillows and peach coloured sheets which had a decidedly silky look about them.

Snape crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't think so."

Black shrugged. "Had to give it a try," he said with a sheepish smile.


	11. 11

Title: Side Effects 11/?

Author: Mimine

Disclaimer: Not mine. JKR's. No infringement intended.

Notes: My gratitude to Fara for her super extra fast beta.

A/N: I know it's been a while since I last updated but repeated viewings of the Two Towers brought on a very insistent Grima Muse. I'm done with her for now and will only be writing this story and Severus' Secret Diary (an NC-17 fic that I don't keep here, of course) until the new book comes out. I love you for reading and for staying with this story even though I've been treating it horribly.

Snape didn't know what time it was but it was definitely late – or, perhaps more accurately, early in the morning. He stared under his lashes, not letting the boy who was peering through the half-open door, see that he was aware of the scrutiny. Eventually, Fitch-Fletchley closed the door gently behind him. The wizard turned to the luminous display of the clock on his bedside table. No seventeen-year-old should be allowed to return home a few hours before dawn.

Black had stirred, giving out a soft whimper when the light from the open door hit him. His covers had nearly fallen off him, only his sheet remaining, which was wrapped around his waist like a belt. He slept in his boxer shorts. Even after the boy had closed the door, the image had remained behind Severus' eyelids, as if burned there. After a while his eyes got accustomed to the darkness again. He got up then, approached the animagus and brought his covers over his half naked body. Because that had been no way to appear in front of the boy and because… he had to be cold, hadn't he? Snape snorted at himself in the darkness, stamping on the last thought before it would be voiced and dismissing it along with the thought that the sight of the half naked wizard sleeping a few feet away from him had to be covered up if he was to get any more sleep.

The morning came, cold and grey. Snape was quite unwilling to leave the warmth of his bed, the woolen brown blankets and sensible white cotton sheets that had been the only thing he had allowed Black to provide. The animagus had made an unnecessary display of his transfiguration skills the previous night, managing to wear thin Severus' already limited patience.

Black gave out a small whimper and changed sides as Snape passed him on his way to the bathroom they were sharing. Snape thought of waking him; it would be best to meet the boy together. Another whimper met Snape's attempt at the idea, so the Potions Master shrugged and got dressed alone before making his way downstairs. 

It was a good two hours before Black joined him in the kitchen, hair pulled back, unshaven, the epitome of rugged charm. Their young host was still not up. Snape was sipping on his second cup of strong tea and studying his research notes. Or at least, that's what he hoped it must look like. In reality he had been staring at the same page for at least an hour. It told of a usual day for Remus towards the end: getting up, getting sick, probably from Severus' latest brew, taking his tonic intravenously along with a joke about getting himself a few more scars in his late age… all in impersonal little notes: the patient this, the patient that… Page after page of failed potions, failed trust, failed hope. Some bore telling round smudges on the ink, tears of frustration that Snape didn't really remember crying. He had known that it would be hard to read his notes again but nothing had prepared him for this.

"Are you going to stare at me all day?"

Black sighed and sat opposite him. "Anything to eat?" he asked.

Snape didn't raise his head from his file. "Unless you cleared the refridgerator yesterday, there should be plenty."

"Fridge."

"Pardon me?"

"Most people call it a fridge and you should have paid it a visit. Don't tell me you've had nothing but tea all morning!"

"I'm not telling you," Snape murmured, taking a sip of his tea.

"Severus…"

He closed his file abruptly. "Will you let me work?" _Or at least pretend_? 

"I'm here to help you!" Black replied and there was such honesty in his tone, such warmth that Snape just stared at him for a moment, disconcerted.

"Help me? That will be in four days. You will assume your canine form and try to stop the other canine in the house from making me its dinner. I imagine there will be much frolicking in the grass and butt sniffing involved."

"Don't count on the butt sniffing. I am told I am rather vicious," a voice was heard behind them.

Neither of them had heard the boy come down.

"Fuck!" Black whispered. Snape's feelings echoed the expletive but he managed to stop his face from colouring through sheer force of will. 

Despite having taught the boy for five years, now Snape wouldn't have recognised him in the street. Their young host looked older than his years. His dark hair was spiked and there were faint smudges of what could have only been black eyeliner around his eyes. His mouth seemed too small to contain his teeth, his chin strong, his cheekbones high. He was painfully thin and his tight black clothes gave him the rather unflattering impression of a stick figure.

"Hello Professor Snape. And…" he turned to the other wizard with a questioning expression.

"Mr Black is also a professor at Hogwarts."

"Teaching what?"

"Quidditch," Snape replied flatly.

"And flying, I share the responsibility with Mr Wood."

"I see. War hero Oliver Wood, if I'm not mistaken." He looked Black up and down. "It is hard to keep track of these things. It was hard even back when I was still a part of your world."

Snape fixed the boy with a glare that apparently still worked.

"Mr Fitch-Fletchley…" 

"Justin."

Snape nodded. "Justin. Both Professor Black and I could have found better ways to spend our vacation…"

"I never asked you to come here!"

"Do not interrupt me! It appears that Headmaster Dumbledore is feeling your absence from 'our world', as you put it and he would like to see you return."

The mention of Dumbledore's name softened the boy's petulant expression.

"Now… why don't we discuss all that with a full stomach?"

Justin seemed to welcome Black's interruption. Snape fixed the animagus with a glare that- unsurprisingly- didn't work.

An hour and a hearty breakfast later all was much quieter in the small kitchen. The boy had exhibited an overwhelming appetite, praising Black's culinary skills so much that Snape had been forced to try at least the omelette to see what the fuss was about.

The fuss had been justified but Snape wasn't going to give Black the satisfaction of knowing that. 

He let his eyes rest on the animagus' back. Shiny, black hair caught in a ponytail yet still reaching almost down to his waist. A brown sweater which would have been shapeless on just about anyone else, letting the observer guess the broad shoulders, the muscular back and narrow waist. And a pair of jeans, tight on long legs, taut on round, firm… and Snape had to stop and tear his gaze away. It would not do to get an erection right in the middle of the Fitch-Fletchley's kitchen while watching Black flip a bloody crumpet.

He turned his attention to the boy instead.

"You said something about being a vicious werewolf. I was under the impression that the Headmaster had you under wolfsbane."

A pause. "I refused to take it, my last two changes." The boy addressed the floor.

Black joined them on the table, his expression suddenly grim.

"I see," Snape said quietly.

"That was why my parents… well, you understand…"

"Decided to leave you here all alone?" Black supplied, unnecessarily. 

Justin nodded.

"Have you killed anyone in that form?"

Black cleared his throat, obviously disapproving of Snape's blunt tone. The boy flinched.

"I don't think so, sir. Not a person. But there was talk of an attack on a flock of sheep and I think it was me."

"You think." Snape said flatly.

"Can you really help me, Professor?" 

"Don't you think Headmaster Dumbledore had a reason for making wolfsbane available to you?" 

"My parents are paying for it…"

"The Headmaster's duty was to have you registered. He took a personal risk for you. Is that any way to repay him?" Snape realised he was shouting. It was not a reaction he allowed himself with his students anymore. He took a deep breath, fighting to reign in his anger.

Justin had averted his gaze.

"Severus, this isn't helping much…" Black tried to intercede.

"I hope you're not about to open the floodgates, are you Mr Fitch-Fletchley?"

Justin shook his head, biting his lower lip.

"Good, because I need information if I am to do anything for you and I would like to obtain it with a minimum of histrionics. Do we understand each other?"

"Yes, sir." 

Snape gathered his notes. "If you're finished with breakfast, join me in the living room." 

"What about the mess in here?" the boy asked timidly.

"Fortunately for us, Professor Black is in possession of an unregistered wand." His tone softened. "You've been living like a Muggle, haven't you? For how long?"

Justin shrugged. "All this time… it's not really that bad. I imagine it would have been much worse for a pureblood." He smiled then. It was a toothy, shy smile, very much like his father's even though he had inherited his mother's thin lips.

It was a smile as effective as his father's, Snape was not too pleased to discover. Getting emotionally involved in this hopeless case was the last thing he needed. A Muggle. The poor little sod had lived like a Muggle for almost a year. Like his Muggle parents who feared him. Away from the wizarding world which would register him as a werewolf, keep him under surveillance, treat him as subhuman. Remus would laugh about the indignities he'd been forced to suffer even after the war. It had been a bitter laugh, masking cold anger at the world that he had helped save. The world they had both fought for.

Snape questioned the boy relentlessly. Justin would shoot him bewildered glances from time to time but mostly kept his eyes at the floor and answered everything dutifully. Despite the spiked hair, the multiple piercings and the traces of makeup that still lingered on, the boy had been sorted into Hufflepuff for a reason.

~*~

They look odd together… almost alike, thin and dark, dressed as though trying to outblack each other. The awkward youth could be a young version of Snape if my memory had not stubbornly retained a graceful boy, tall and lean, with long eyelashes and a complexion clear enough to bring several of the girls in our year to tears. I had seen but not accepted that the ugly duckling I had so enjoyed taunting had suddenly transformed to a black swan. Not even after he took Remus away from me had I let my eyes open to the truth.

I slip out quietly at some point. I expected Justin to need more moral support from me but he is holding his own quite well. 

I interrupt them around an hour later to let them know that I have made lunch. I get a dirty look from Snape for my trouble. Justin looks up to him imploringly and is dismissed.

Severus is gathering his notes with slow movements.

"Well, are you coming?"

He shakes his head. "I'll retire for a little while." I debate between pushing him to eat and letting him take a nap – a nap, _a NAP_!,- my mind yells incredulously. The nap wins. He looks like death warmed over. His eyes are hooded and his mouth downcast, making him look older than his years. I know he did get some sleep yesterday even though he didn't take his sleeping potion which Pomfrey had instructed me to discreetly bring up. Which I did and was explicitly told to bugger off. However, a little more will definitely not hurt. It is good that he can sleep without chemical assistance.

I have lunch with the boy. Snape's interrogation has left him worn out as well. I try to cheer him up with little success.

"Tell me about professor Lupin," he asks and even though it is not an unreasonable demand, I practically jump off my seat.

Tell him? What can I tell him?

"What did the two of you talk about when he came to visit you?" I say when I manage to get my suddenly dry throat to work.

He shrugs. "He said that everyone would be behind me. That I must not lose hope and that my secret would be safe in Hogwarts. He described his school years and how supporting everyone had been."

He makes the last part a question or perhaps it is my uneasy conscience that reads irony in his words. Dumbledore did his best for the young beast dropped on his lap, all those years ago. As for us, his friends, it took us less than a year to know Remus' secret and less than a day or so to accept him.

I begin my carefully edited narrative. It occurs to me that much of what I'm saying is not news to the boy but he does not interrupt me. It is a story I've told Harry hundreds of times but Justin makes a much more difficult audience. Habit makes me paint James as the embodiment of wisdom and nobility with a touch of good old Gryffindor craziness. Is that really how he was? Were I to meet my dear old friend again, perhaps I wouldn't recognise him. It's all right. He probably wouldn't recognise me either.

It's getting dark outside and I'm gloomy enough without the sunset adding to it. I get up to search for the light switch. The boy comes to my rescue after a while. I mumble my thanks and sit down again.

I continue. So, Remus finished his years at Hogwarts with his friends always by his side, even during his transformations. Happy and carefree, working hard and getting top marks. Nice fairytale in which certain embarrassing facts have no place. His soft touch on my sore muscles becoming bolder one afternoon. A tentative kiss that I accepted. His steady caress bringing me to a quick orgasm, surprising in its intensity, the first not brought on by my own hand.

Had it been love for me and gratitude for him? Just raging hormones for both of us? I'll never know, nor do I want to. Sometimes I doubt that it was ever love for me. What did I know about love then?

I have stopped talking. Justin is staring at me in respectful silence. I don't like his expression. Perhaps Remus' account had been much different than mine.

At last he smiles. Not to me, it is to Snape who has just joined us again. He looks much less like a walking corpse so I suppose that nap – _a nap!_- really took place.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go get ready." Justin says to both of us.

"For what?" Snape asks quietly.

"To go out. Catch up with some mates."

"Did you not do enough 'catching up' yesterday?"

"What am I going to do stuck in here? Perhaps you too would like to tell me how much you like werewolves? I'm done listening to ancient history!"

Snape gives me a calculating gaze then turns his attention back to the boy. "Watch your tone, Justin. I suggest you save the teenage rebellion for your parents. In their absence, you fate rests with me and Professor Black." He pauses to let the last part sink. Justin does not interrupt the silence.

I'm impressed by Severus' cool authority and deeply grateful he mentioned me since I can't say it had really occurred to me to discipline the boy. Discipline is not a matter into which I've had to give much thought. My students practically discipline each other at Quidditch, often much more harshly than I would have and as for disciplining Harry… most of the time it feels as though my godson is the adult and not the other way around.

Justin is not pleased but agrees to be back before 12 and sulks off to get ready.

With that swiftly resolved I battle an intense feeling of uselessness by hassling Severus to eat. To my surprise, he agrees.

I'm not hungry but simply sitting at the table with him makes me so ridiculously happy that I don't pass by the opportunity. We eat in silence. Or rather, he eats and I mostly stare at him.

"What was that he said about me telling him how much I love werewolves?"

__

You don't? I'm tempted to ask but affirmation of his love for Remus is not what I need right now.

"I talked to him about what it was like for Remus at school," I say simply.

He snorts. "Luckily for our young werewolf, his friends need not become unregistered animagi so they will have the pleasure of his company even in _those_ days of the month. Provided he finally understands that wolfsbane is not what killed Remus."

"Is that why he has refused to take it?"

He looks me up and down with disdain, as though wondering why he's wasting his time talking to me. _Well, I don't see anyone else! It's me or the walls, you greasy git!_

"That's partly the reason, I believe."

"You handled him well."

He ignores my compliment. Perhaps it came as such a shock to him that his mind refused to register it.

He looks around the room briefly, then sits on a small, rather badly lit desk. I hadn't even noticed it in the crowded parlour, I must admit. He buries his nose in his papers, signalling that I am to leave him alone.

I clean up in the kitchen. Then fix something to eat. Then clean up again. I go upstairs. I have a shower. I think of contacting Harry and try to find the least compromising way of doing so. There are more than one ways but I don't really have anything to tell him. We will not be spending Christmas together. Nothing new there. I'm off somewhere I can't tell him, doing something he is not supposed to know. Fuck it. I'll talk to him tomorrow.

Snape doesn't acknowledge me when I join him again. Little by little I approach him. Still nothing. I move even closer wondering for how long he plans on ignoring me.

"If you must act like a dog, I suggest you do so in your four-legged form!"

Kneeling in front of him, my head on his lap, he couldn't keep pretending I don't exist. There's exasperation in his tone yet his fingers are gentle when they finally bury themselves in my hair, stroking instead of pushing me off him. The scratch of his quill is the only sound in the room for a while.

He continues stroking my head absent-mindedly. My back and my knees start to complain, one more vocally than the other and soon my neck joins in. Still, I don't move.

"You know, there are more ways I do on my knees in front of you. Things I know you like…" I murmur and kiss his thigh through the soft wool of his trousers.

He pushes my head back. "I'll have to pass. The boy could be back any minute now."

I get up slowly, suppressing a heavy sigh. It wouldn't last. How could it?

"Go get some sleep," he says curtly.

"And you?"

"I will wait for Justin."

I chuckle and drop unceremoniously on an ugly yet surprisingly comfortable sofa. "I will wait with you then and when he comes back I will give him my best impersonation of my mother in such situations." I keep my tone light but the thought of what I put both my parents through during my teenage years is not particularly funny anymore.

"You will most likely end up snoring on that sofa but suit yourself."

A while later I wake up with a start hoping there was no snoring. A glance at the clock tells me only five minutes have passed. It is a quarter past twelve and there's no sign of Justin.

"Makes you glad you're gay and children were never an option, doesn't it?" I say lightly.

He snorts. "There have been far too many children in my life, despite that precaution. I wouldn't know."

__

Well, no one twisted your arm to become a teacher, I think but know that the truth is quite different. Dumbledore's protection had come with a price.

"Should we yell at him when he comes back?" I say instead.

No answer, just the steady scratch of his quill. What on Earth is he writing all these hours?

"Did your parents yell at you for being late?" I ask, cringing as I remember, just as the words have left my mouth, that his mother died when he was an infant.

He sighs. "No, my father had solved that problem by not allowing me to go out at all. Except for Death Eater meetings of course. You know, the virgin sacrifices, flaying Muggles alive… that sort of thing."

"I never believed those rumours."

"Then I wonder at the fact that you spread them; what do you think it says about you?" he says evenly.

I rub on my face tiredly. This game has gone on long enough and we no longer have Remus' gentle interventions. One word from Remus and Severus would be a pussycat. I have some words of my own for him, for one that he and his Death Eater mates did not read poetry to each other in their meetings but I know where it will lead. I intended to make small talk, as stupid as that makes me, not start another of our endless arguments.

When I next remove my hands from my face, the clock reads 1:00 and Justin is still not back. I turn to face Severus. He is resting his chin on his hand staring blankly ahead.

"Perhaps we should go look…" I start to say when the sound of the opening door cuts me off. The boy stumbles inside.

"Oh, shit," he says with a drunken giggle. Snape doesn't seem to appreciate the greeting.

"I believe we had an agreement, Mr Fitch-Fletchley."

"Oh, come on, I'm not that late, am I?" He glances at the clock over the fireplace. "Fine… I am but we're not at school… relax."

There's a glassy look in his eyes, making me suspect that drink is not the only thing responsible for his good cheer.

"What are you going to do, anyway?" Justin says to both of us. "Take points?"

"We might decide that you're not worth our trouble." Severus' voice has taken that silky quality that I, and I assume all the students he's taught over the years, have associated with an imminent explosion.

The boy seems to be too intoxicated and apparently stoned, to notice. "Your trouble!" he spits. "This is a joke. I know my condition. There is no cure!"

I walk up to him and place my hand on his shoulder.

"Justin, Professor Snape could help you if you let him."

"Like he helped Professor Lupin?"

And that is… I feel anger rise in my chest… overflowing. Severus moves quicker than me and in an instant grabs the scrawny boy and pushes him against the wall.

"You little shit!" he hisses.

I realise that, surprisingly, I must try to be the voice of reason and pull Severus away from the trembling teenager. Severus' hair is obscuring his face, his eyes burning through the dark curtain, locked with Justin's. As I reach to touch his tense shoulder he lets go of the thin form with a sigh of disgust. Part of me wants to take my turn slamming the boy against the wall but I manage to stop myself. Severus has turned his back to both of us, taking deep, calming breaths.

I hear a sniffle. A stifled sob. Another one. For a moment I think it is Snape but it is our defiant young werewolf who has sunk to the floor, hugging his knees. Stupid little shit. Stupid, ungrateful little shit who is now crying in earnest, his bony shoulders heaving. Snape watches with hooded eyes as I kneel and try to do the humane thing. The slight body curls even tighter into itself when I try to put my arms around it. He is trying to talk through his sobs… I can't make out most of what he's saying. Only that he's afraid. He says that over and over again as he trembles in my arms. I look up and Snape turns his back to us again quickly. If the idea was for me to miss the wet trails down his hollow cheeks, he failed.

A/N: Reviews make me a better writer and person. 

Severus Snape's Secret Diary, my **NC-17 **Snapeslash (mostly Sev/Lucius) story can be found at another site to which I tried to link but f.f.net won't let me.

As soon as I update it, it will also be at adultfanfiction.net where most of my NC-17 rated stuff can be found. (under Mimine)

I'd kill for a site just about now…


	12. 12

Disclaimer: JKR owns these fine characters. I just borrowed them for a little while and I promise to put them back. Written for fun, not profit.

A/N It has not been beta read so all the mistakes are mine and mine alone. 

Chapter 12

It took ages for the boy to calm down. Once he did, I took him to the bathroom to wash up and then to his bed. He was exhausted, still snivelling from time to time and holding on to me tightly. Too tightly in fact. I ignored what I fervently hoped was not a grope and sat at the foot of his bed until it appeared to me that he'd finally fallen asleep. 

I'm a worse person than I like to think. I did not stop thinking of Severus for one second. I hardly paid any attention to what the boy was saying to me and answered with murmured reassurances that apparently applied.

The room is dark. I light my wand, looking furtively at Snape's direction. There is no reaction.  I can only see his hair. He usually sleeps on his back, as though laid for his eternal rest. At least Remus had gotten him to stop crossing his arms over his chest. That had been entirely too much.

No corpselike calm tonight. He is curled into himself, face pressed into his clenched fists… hardly ideal position for a restful sleep. His legs are drawn up, it is as though he's trying to occupy as little space on the bed as possible. I stare longer, steeling myself for he moment he will wake up and yell at me.

I whisper his name… when did his name become beautiful in my ears? "Ssseverusss you ssslimy Ssslytherin," I remember James and myself calling to him in a parody of parseltongue, ridiculing his family's tenuous claim to Salazar Slytherin's bloodline… A claim that I wouldn't even know about had it not been for my father. 

My sainted Auror father, calling for genocide against those "inbred murdering bastards", in his house robe, sitting in front of the fire. Snapes, Malfoys, Lestranges… all those who had never really left Grindelwald's side. 

My prophetic Auror father who knew it was only a matter of time before a new Dark Lord would rise from Grindelwald's ashes.

It is no use blaming him… my poor Auror father who died believing his son a traitor and murderer. It had been his house, his fire, his son and all he would do was vent his rage at the people he was forced to encounter, day in, day out, knowing they'd killed his friends during the War and would kill again, given the chance.

So I had taunted the "ssslimy Ssslytherin" who had never said anything himself about being related to the Founder of his House. I had carried my father's hatred like a torch.

"Severus," I whisper again and kneel next to his bed. I reach to stroke the dark hair, resting my head on the side of his pillow. He flinches and pulls back from my touch. 

I do not pressure him but I don't leave his side either.

"He's wrong, you know. You did help Remus."

"Leave me alone," he murmurs.

"Justin said it to get to you. He couldn't imagine how much, of course. He's very sorry," I say quietly even though it appeared to me that the young werewolf was mostly sorry for himself and not at how he had hurt his unpleasant old Potions Master. 

I get up, keeping back a heavy sigh. I wish he were yelling at me and trying to hex me instead of this apathy.

I stare at the ceiling for one hour… two hours… two centuries… Who is he fooling? I have studied his breathing. I know he too is awake.

Yet I do sleep at some point, for how long, I am not sure. And what wakes me is so close to a dream I'm afraid to trust it. I do not think myself a coward but I don't dare let him see I am no longer asleep. He sits carefully on the side of my bed. As usual I'm on my face, arms and legs spread out, it's a miracle he finds enough space.

I gather my courage and slowly turn to face him. His eyes glimmer in the dark. I hold his gaze. I'm tired of these staring contests of his. Not this time. He came to _my bed. I will not look away this time. He breaks eye contact first. I take little joy in my victory. I feel him getting ready to get up again, to leave me, so I reach and close my hand around his wrist._

So delicate, the bones shifting inside my hand, a rapid pulse beating against my fingers for a moment. I love his wrists. His ankles too. I love every single joint in his body. Even his bony knees and his sharp elbows. His knuckles… I could write a poem for every single one. Is there a name for people like me? 

He lets me draw him to my arms. I try to kiss him but he avoids my lips. He presses his face against my neck, his warm breath making me shiver. Too soon he moves lower, over my bare chest, lower, with single-minded determination. I will not pretend I haven't spent a large part of the past month dreaming of him in my bed but I would have been glad just to kiss him. Just to have him lie next to me and let me touch him. 

I want to tell him all that but his mouth on me empties my mind completely. He does kiss down there, over the thin cotton of my boxer shorts. He pulls down the barrier impatiently and swallows me. I half succeed in keeping back a cry. He stops. Part of me wants him to stop for good… I wanted him again but not like that, not silent, not like he could be anyone in the dark.

Lust wins and I thrust gently, trying to get him to pick up from where he had left off.

"Please, Sev," I whisper since brushing against his still half open mouth hadn't worked.

"Be quiet," he snaps. And I realise he wants me to be completely silent. No names, no pointless tenderness just this… this that my body accepts most gladly as he closes his mouth around me again. I try to focus only on what he's doing, on warm pleasure that doesn't quite ease the hollow feeling in my heart.

Too soon it's over. It had been a while. He knows. Remus had been in a coma for about a month when I'd asked – _I'd fucking asked! – _Severus to spend the night with me. To be told that I was welcome to go to one of my Hogsmeade whore - one would I think I had a whole harem - to ease the tension. And I think I had screamed that I didn't need his bloody permission and I had gone and gotten utterly pissed at Hogsmeade. There had been no whores involved. Just a pretty witch who had listened kindly to my drunken ramblings and who I'd been shocked the next morning to recognize as one of my seventh years.

I reach to reciprocate somehow. My hands brush against his hair, his shoulders, his knobbly spine. His hair tickles on my stomach as he raises his head.

Unthinking I close my fist in the dark strands. To keep him from leaving me. To get him to look at me. Just to hurt him. All three apply, I suspect. I pull until he's eye level with me. Closed eyes, how dare he! Lips pressed together, stubborn as I lick to part them. I taste where they've been, salty and bitter. Not innocent lips, not by far. Poison lips, perhaps it is best that he won't open his mouth. Who knows what he would say?

I taste a different saltiness against my own lips, the back of my throat. Stupid, useless tears. I thought I was done with those. He's rigid in my arms, unforgiving. I reach and grab harshly between his legs. I know he won't be hard. Fucking martyr! Remus knew enough of the memories it would awake to hardly ever allow Snape to do that for him. I'm not supposed to know anything. Or care.

I tighten my grip. He breathes in sharply. I'm hurting him, I know I am but he doesn't fight me. There is some movement in my hand. If I hurt him enough I might even manage to get him off.

I yank his hair back and bite on his neck. I let go of his hair and viciously pinch a nipple through his nightshirt… a definite stir. Closed eyes and mouth pulled back in a soundless snarl… a passive weight in my arms, still in his ugly white nightshirt. No special pains now that it's only me… no silk pyjamas, kind words, the occasional smile.

I move my hand on him, quickly, and feel him stiffen in my palm. His breathing hitches then he exhales suddenly, a silent moan. Quiet… he's good at that. Even when he reaches his climax there's no more than a heavy sigh.

Is that all I'll ever get?

He gets off me. He stays sitting on the bed for a moment, looking down, his hair hiding his face. He shakes his head resolutely and gets up.

Familiar sounds from the bathroom, a piss, a shower… a not so familiar soft moan as the sound of running water stops for a little while. Quickly, it is muffled again as he turns on the shower once more.

I pretend to be asleep when he comes out, in a long white towel. By his bed, he's naked for a moment then another nightshirt protects his decency from me, grey that one. Fumbling on his nightstand, bottles jingling… it stops as he finally finds the bottle he had refused to touch yesterday. There's solace in the little purple bottle, solace I obviously couldn't offer.

I should be pleased, of course. I got him to take his medicine.

I fight against the urge to transform, here as I lie on my bed. It smells so strongly of him now Padfoot would probably go insane. I'll deal with this on two legs. A cleaning charm, for one, to take away the tempting scent.

I steal a glance to his bed. He's on his back, asleep as his peaceful breathing tells me. I follow its rhythm and before long, sleep claims me. Uneasy sleep, jumping from dream to dream and in all of them I'm chasing someone but cannot catch him in the dark. I call to him but he doesn't hear me…. So subtle, my subconscious, I have to admire it…

I wake up, my sheets are a sweat-soaked bundle, my covers on the floor. It is no use. It's dark outside but the new day has officially started. Five thirty in the morning is too early even for an early riser, which I'm not. It doesn't matter. It's that or hitting Severus' unmarked purple bottle for some of his untroubled sleep. With my luck I'd probably overdose and spend the fortnight in a coma. Not a bad way of dealing with the way the greasy git's been treating me but I wouldn't be much use to Justin.

Just a look at him is all it takes. His face, so pale, so peaceful, almost childish in sleep. Will I ever tire of looking at him? I think I know when I fell in love with him… won't I fall out of love? Won't I just look at him at one moment and not feel my insides shift? I lean and kiss his brow. There's no reaction. I could slip in his bed and he probably wouldn't know. I'm not that desperate… _Yet.___

I make my way to the kitchen, that Muggle realm of mysterious appliances and overfull cupboards. I had explored them yesterday, studied the colourful boxes and tins proclaiming that all you have to do is "Add water", "Microwave for X minutes" or just "open and consume". Slowly I put together my first meal for the day.

Sitting on the table I look up and unless I fell asleep on top of my breakfast, I'm looking at Dumbledore.

"Albus?"

"I thought I'd check up on you."

"Was… was it safe to apparate here?" I mumble.

He gives me a kind smile. "Of course it is. It would have been safe for you and Severus as well." He sits heavily on the chair opposite me.

"That paranoid idiot!"

"I advised against it." A short pause. "I didn't want Severus to understand that he's still too weak to manage it."

It is a while before I manage to get some air in my lungs. "So you sent him on a mission like that? Without a wand, unable to apparate…"

"And with you by his side. He had to leave Hogwarts, Sirius, you know that."

I shake my head. Dumbledore, master manipulator. It's not news to me. He never owned Remus and myself the way he owns Severus. And even now that the war is over, that Sev has paid back tenfold for his past sins, he still belongs to Dumbledore. My dog part understands perfectly that kind of loyalty. The rest of me isn't so quick to follow suit.

Some of my resentment must have shown in my expression. "You care for him very deeply," Albus states. There's satisfaction in his tone.

I have no reply to that.

"I can't say it was a development I had foreseen but it pleases me very much."

_You had not foreseen it… well, that makes two of us._

"So, what are you doing here, so early in the morning?"

"I am an old man. I don't need much sleep anymore. There will be time… later. You're up quite early yourself."

I shrug. There's no way I'm telling him I had to get out of there or risk molesting Sleeping Beauty. "I'm afraid you will have to wait a while before Snape wakes. Same with Justin."

"I will not stay. Just tell Severus I made an alteration to his wand signature. He should be able to use it now without any complications."

I stare at him in disbelief.

"I accioed it from your bedroom."

"I figured he wasn't crazy enough to have left without it but I wouldn't put it past him…" A selfish disappointment comes over me. He won't be needing me anymore. 

"How is he, Sirius?"

Concern burns bright in the faded blue eyes and I almost feel ashamed for my resentment. I cannot doubt Dumbledore's love. He doesn't play God with all of us, not quite as much as during the War but he can't be expected to give up his hobby completely. He has studied Severus, knows every reaction, anticipates every objection, every complaint and nudges him in the right direction.

The right direction currently seems to be my direction and for that I must be grateful. Still, there are some things I'd rather not share with the kindly Headmaster and my private life is one of them.

"Justin is doing quite well," I choose to misunderstand. "He had a bit of a run in with Snape but nothing too serious. He's going through a rebellious phase, I think. Normal at seventeen even without being a werewolf."

Dumbledore shakes his head sadly, apparently translating "a bit of a run in with Snape" to something quite close to what happened. "I trust you to keep things smooth between them," he says quietly.

"It's hardly my greatest strength but I'll see what I can do. Snape… he doesn't show it but he does care. When he realised that Justin's parents had been leaving him here alone during his changes, he was livid."

I'm looking for surprise in Dumbledore's eyes but see none. He knows. Of course he knows. Like he knew enough about the way the Dursleys were treating Harry to have his Hogwarts letter delivered "to the cupboard under the stairs". He knows but there is only so much he can do. 

He's not a god, no matter how we choose to see him. Harry is still convinced, I suspect. Remus loved him beyond measure but did not always obey him. I'm not sure what I feel. And Snape… Snape loves and hates him, nurses his grudges against him but doesn't deny him anything and at the slightest sign of frailty from the old man, looks up with such naked fear that I'm seriously dreading the day when Albus will inevitably leave us. 

 "I'm sure Severus will be glad to see you." I say quietly.

Dumbledore stares at me blankly for a moment, then shakes his head. "I cannot stay, I'm afraid. Make sure he gets the wand."

With that he leaves me. No sage advice on what to do with Snape or with Justin. End of discussion. He didn't ask again about Snape. I assume he got all the information he needed from my expression. We're open books to him.

I am half-heartedly finishing my breakfast aware of the fact that I had overrated my hunger, when the boy comes down.

"I thought I heard voices," he says sleepily.

I tell him that Dumbledore was just here. He doesn't look surprised. He asks me whether I told the Headmaster anything about his behaviour.

What would he be referring to? The fact that he was roaming the grounds free his last two changes or the way he insulted the people who are here to help him?

I shake my head.

"How is professor Snape?" Justin is avoiding my eyes. Perhaps he did understand something of the way he had hurt the man after all.

"He's fine," I lie. Very unconvincingly to my own ears but the boy seems satisfied.

"Could I?" He is pointing to my plate and I pass it to him wordlessly. Six pieces of toast had been a bit rich.

"Snape scared me," he says in between bites. "I don't think I'd ever seen him lose his temper like that before. No matter what he would say to us in class he would never raise his voice."

And took great pride on that, I'm sure. Being in control. It had taken him a while to develop the skill but I remember that even as a student he could do it. He could have me, James or Peter frothing at the mouth with a few choice words, like a cat toying with a leashed dog. Sometimes I would forget the consequences and attack him, with magic or just force. James had better self-control than me but he too had been behind some of Snape's trips to the Infirmary. Peter would not attack him unless either James or myself were there. And Remus… Remus too possessed that ability to get others on a state while he stared at them calmly, indulgently, a _who__ me innocence in his expression. He would use it on me in our rare fights and I would briefly hate him for it. His talent was inherent, he hadn't had to work on it, like Snape. Perhaps Snape had picked it up from him. At about the time my childhood nemesis suddenly went from urchin to quite a head turner, gone was also my joy in making him cry in helpless rage._

Why can't I still hate him? Things had been so wonderfully simple when I hated him.

Snape comes downstairs as I am cleaning up the kitchen. If he's embarrassed at being the last one to wake up, he doesn't show it. He curtly orders Justin to wait for him in the study. The boy obeys without question.

"You took my wand."

I point to the kitchen counter. "You can use it now. Dumbledore made a modification in your signature."

"Albus was here?"

Shock and… is that hurt in his tone?

I nod.

"What did you tell him?"

"All that happened last night."

"You're lying."

"Of course I'm lying."

He gives out a heavy sigh. "I'm sick of your games."

One step and I'm in his personal space. "So am I," I hiss.

He pulls back a little. There's something in his expression for a moment. Desire perhaps? I know it's what I felt when his body heat and his clean sharp scent hit me. Whatever it was, it is gone in an instant. He reaches next to me and takes his wand then is off to find Justin.

He avoids me the rest of the day. Justin helps me pass the time, watching television with me. He doesn't go out tonight. For my sake, I suspect. I want to go to Snape. He has set up shop in the garage. I settle for taking him dinner. He accepts the food but not my company.

I'm already asleep when he comes to our room. He wakes me up and tells me to go to my own bed. When I refuse he just drops on my bed himself and is asleep within seconds. This sleeping potion he's on is seriously disturbing my attempts at seduction.

A/N: That's it for now. I'll have the last chapter out in a couple of days. It's all about post OotP stories from then on! (though if it hasn't become too horribly AU I will continue Snape's Diary)


	13. 13

A/N: Here it is. It is over, finished, done. This is the **R version of the chapter. The ****NC-17 version can be found in Snapeslash and in siriusblack_severussnape Yahoo groups as well as in my livejournal (link in my profile). It has not been beta read and it shows. If you offer feedback and I don't reply, do not be surprised, I will be avoiding the web until my copy of OotP makes it here (around Monday or Tuesday at the very latest, I'm told) Thank you for following this story .**

I provoked him ceaselessly. I took no pains to muffle the sounds of my vigourous wanking at night, I would arrange it so that he would 'accidentally' catch me at it… I tried everything and failed.

I stopped after a while. Gave him some room, you could say. Or just decided that I had to spare myself. I focussed on what we were supposed to be doing there. I talked to Justin for hours, his impromptu therapist discussing it all, from his change to his troubles with girls, his difficult relationship with his parents, his struggle to reconcile the Muggle and the Wizarding World. I started keeping some distance from him after a compassionate hug to the sobbing lad got quite a different turn wit his lips fastening themselves on mine. Snape had then pointed out to me sourly that we were there to help Justin and not seduce him.

The first night he couldn't stay through it all. Justin was screaming as claws replaced his black painted nails and his large chin elongated to a snout. The scrawny boy made for a scrawny wolf, nothing I couldn't handle. I held him down while Snape approached to get the blood sample he needed. Just then the wolf snarled and Snape froze. I smelt his surge of fear and could not suppress a primal excitement. That thing that was Justin was rather vocal about its excitement. It was hard to keep back the wolf without hurting him and Snape… Snape was just staring at us, all colour gone from his face. No question of getting the blood, of course. I tightened my jaws around the wolf's throat, a quick thought passing through the part of my brain that I still occupied about how Dumbledore would not be too pleased if I strangled his student. I would have done it, though. I definitely would have if Snape hadn't finally woken up from his trance.

I left with Justin. He didn't particularly like me but he had to submit to me, recognising my superior strength. I don't remember too well all that went on that night. I led the boy back at dawn. Hunting with him had earned me his respect and some affection. He licked my muzzle. He smelt of blood, a large brown hare we had cornered and sportingly shared. Padfoot quite liked the smell.

I left Justin in his room to sleep it off. Naked and bloodied on his bed, like an assault victim. _At least it is not his blood, was all I could think. Not like Remus had been that morning James and I had snuck to the Infirmary under his coat, determined to find out what was wrong with our friend. We had already seen the scars… Scar upon scar on the slight body that no healing charm could remove fully. How had he explained them to Snape later on? I find it hard to believe that Snape hadn't seen him naked in the month (months?) before I discovered them and took it upon myself to show Snape exactly what he had been shagging._

Snape… it all comes back to Snape.

I followed my nose to find him in the dark house. The door to our bedroom was half open and I easily slipped inside. He was on the bed, apparently studying the ceiling. Just as my simple dog brain started puzzling over what the hell _catatonia _is, he turned to face me.

"Don't transform," he whispered.

I did not think a canine was what he wanted to see right then but I obliged him. Slowly I approached him and sat on my hind legs, next to his bed.

"That went great, didn't it?"

I wanted to say that there would be other opportunities but all I could do was lower my head, as though I had any reason to feel ashamed.

"Is he all right?"

I nodded.

He reached until his fingertips were touching my head. I arched into the absent-minded caress while Padfoot's heart fluttered wildly in his chest. I had known… suspected for quite a while that this part of Padfoot that James and then Harry alone had owned from day one, had opened up to let in Snape. It was a guilty feeling, dogs only have room for one master. Padfoot had resisted with all his might.

That night Padfoot hadn't had a chance. Snape was drunk… drugged… perhaps both. The fingers were gentle on my fur and that voice was speaking to me softly. I was tempted to just slip into this primal place where all I could hear was the sound of his voice and not his words.

It would be better that way. I didn't want to hear what he was saying. How it had hurt. How he had hated us both and James even more for saving him. How he lost all respect for Dumbledore and then fucked up his life completely. Just blaming everyone else for his misery, as usual. Eventually we both fell asleep until well into the day.

Justin woke us up to tell us that he'd be coming back to Hogwarts. Padfoot had decided at some point that the floor was too hard and his own bed too far away from his master's and was curled up on Snape's feet. Snape did not find it particularly funny.

Justin's parents came to say goodbye to him bearing Christmas gifts and many awkward wishes as they tried to determine whether we were pagans. Snape seemed to be preoccupied thinking of the upcoming long and uncomfortable train journey until I pointed out to him that we'd simply get to London and from there on take the Hogwarts Express. The thought had improved his spirits considerably. To say that he is not fond of Muggles would be a gross understatement.

Justin's mother had not stopped snivelling since she had gotten to the cottage. She thanked me from the bottom of her heart for all I did for Justin. She hugged me… or rather clung to me quite forcefully and I had to wonder whether appreciation of my good looks ran in the family as she fluttered her wet lashes at me while I gently untangled her. Snape was with Justin's father but had not missed the scene and gave me a disgusted look. I don't know what Snape was saying to the tall man but that was a rare gentleness in his tone that had forced me to reconsider his anti-Muggle sentiments.

So we got back to Hogwarts victiorious. Justin was well-received by his fellow Hufflepuffs and most students of other houses. I had a room to my own again, Snape had his sanctuary back and Remus' memory lurked everywhere in the castle ready to punch us in the stomach anytime. I was holding on well, I had a purpose, "win over Snape or bust."

It wasn't the same for the object of my affections. Especially not since he could no longer seek oblivion in his little bottles as Dumbledore had indirectly informed him, not if he wished to stay employed.

No longer competing with his calming potions I offered him my own oblivion. Again and again, certain that at some point he would succumb. I was seeing less of him than during the holidays but we still had to work together to help Justin.

They say the criminal always returns to the scene of the crime. For me it was the second time back to the site of my failed attempt at murder. I had tried to talk Pomfrey out of picking the Shrieking Shack for Justin's change but hadn't gotten very far. How long would it be before the secret would be out again? At least Justin only had two more years to go. In fact, we were tutoring him, hoping to have him finish school along with the rest of his year. Tutoring him in Transfiguration had not been a particularly pleasant experience. It was not that he didn't put an effort, quite the contrary. I just could not be patient with him not to mention that whatever lust-filled daydreams I seemed to provoke in him tended to shoot his concentration straight to hell. In the end I had relegated my duties to Hermione. Justin had appeared crestfallen at first but as he later told Hermione, who told Ron, who told Harry, who told me, Snape tutoring him in Potions was bad enough and he could do without my Snape impersonation in Transfiguration.

Snape was deathly pale but calm as he witnessed Justin's transformation. I could smell his fear, mingled with Pomfrey's. She seemed to be keeping an eye mostly on Snape rather than on Justin and myself. The young beast fought hard under me as Snape got what he needed. The plan was to leave Justin there, no hunting in the Forbidden Forest for Padfoot and his new Moony. I felt bad for the boy yet did not object when Pomfrey locked him inside. 

I found Snape in his rooms. I offered him once more my oblivion, a good drink and a good fuck in front of his fire and as much as he initially refused the second part of the package, glass after glass of firewhiskey changed that.

Perhaps he thought it was the drink talking, or a combination of drink and lust as I whispered to him that I loved him and that he was mine now, all mine. So I repeated it, lying next to him on his bed, I whispered it against his nape.

He turned around under me, pushing my head back a little to meet my eyes.

"Yes," he said. And what kind of way was that to reply when someone tells you he loves you? Yes? Yes I can tell?

The selfish bastard just pushed my head low apparently in need of some oral attention. And even though I wondered where my pride has gone and whether I will ever recover it, I gladly complied.


End file.
